Thicker Than Water
by intjsherlocked
Summary: It's always been just the two Winchester brothers; Sam and Dean, together to the end of the world and back. There's absolutely no room for anyone else, no matter who it is. That is, until a bushy haired girl comes along, and the brothers are forced to make space for three in the Impala. Sisfic.
1. First Impressions Last

Here we go, folks. This is going to be a monster of a fic; already I've outlined half the story and it's going to be at least sixty chapters. This first chapter is probably going to be shorter than most because I want to put it out as a sort of tester or pilot.

**Summary: **It's always been the two Winchester brothers; Sam and Dean, together through thick and thin. There's absolutely no room for anyone else, no matter who it is. That is, until a bushy haired girl comes along and the brothers are forced to make space for three in the Impala.

**Warnings: **Nothing excessively graphic or disturbing, only occasional gore and your usual Winchester profanity.

Without further ado, buckle up, and enjoy the ride.

* * *

Sticky.

The lukewarm blood matting Sam's hair was the first sensation he was aware of as he opened his eyes, blinking in the darkness. Goosebumps rose on his arms at the drafty air that was blowing through the room.

Fear crept up his spine as he lifted his head, squinting through the darkness to see where he was. It was some kind of cellar, with dank, hard concrete floors and the distant sound of dripping water.

At this point, waking up in a strange place with his head pounding was becoming a typicality, he reflected wryly, feeling in his pocket for his weapons. His gun was no longer there, but his small jackknife remained deep in the coat of his jacket. The feel of the small knife in his fingers gave him some comfort, and he pulled it out just in case.

Sam had absolutely no idea where he was.

He remembered investigating a house in the suburbs for a witch that they were hunting. He and Dean had driven down the street… it was lined with budding birch trees, and the rain had been pounding on the Impala's roof… they had broken into the home of the witch, climbing in through the back window… Dean had tripped over the curtain, and Sam had laughed at him… then… a muddled, black hole, devoid of any memory whatsoever of what had happened. The very last image he could remember was Dean's irritated face as Sam made fun of him for falling on his face, courtesy of a floral pink curtain.

Sam cautiously raised his hand to the back of his head and cringed at the flare of pain that electrified his head as he brushed the wound with his fingertips. The edge of it was raised, and it was covered in viscous, drying blood. At least it wasn't flowing blood, he thought dully, dropping his arm. Now he only hoped Dean had escaped unharmed.

_Oh, God. Where's Dean? _Sam sat up all the way now, pressing a hand to his temple as nausea roiled through him. "Dean?"

"Sammy?"

The sound of his brother's voice, intact and sounding relatively unharmed, made him release a breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding. He turned his head and could barely make out the silhouette of Dean.

"You good?" Dean got up from where he had been sitting and made his way over to Sam.

"I'm fine," Sam said. His head throbbed painfully as though to remind him that he wasn't exactly feeling fine. "Just a bump, that's all. Nothing we haven't gone through before."

"It stopped bleeding about half an hour ago. You owe me another new flannel, Head Injury Boy."

Sam glanced at the bloody, ripped flannel on the concrete next to him. "At least I don't trip over curtains."

"Shut up. How's your head?" Dean asked, stooping next to Sam and helping him to sit up.

There were currently two black figures of Dean next to him, a double vision illusion manifested thanks to the sticky lump on the back of his head. Sam focused on the figure on the right - it seemed a bit more solidified than the blurrier figure on the left - and leaned against the wall behind him, exhaling slowly. Dean was okay. They would be okay. It was the reasoning that he would never tell his brother, but always kept him sane whenever what they were hunting got the upper hand.

"Okay. Concussion test," Dean said, and with a jolt Sam realized he hadn't answered Dean's previous question. _That'll make me look as fine as I say I am. _

"Dean, we can worry about me after we kill the witch-" he began, but Dean interrupted him.

"What's the day?"

"It's…" Sam rummaged through his mind, trying to recall the last time he'd seen the date. "April… 12th."

"It's the 13th." Dean reached out towards the back of Sam's head. Sam gritted his teeth, determined to not make a sound as Dean's fingers gingerly touched the wound. "You feeling dizzy?"

"A bit. I'm fine, Dean."

"Is your vision good?"

"Even if it was, we're in a pitch black cellar."

"Who's the coolest big brother on the planet?"

"Not you," Sam said automatically, pulling away. "Really, Dean. We can worry about this later."

Dean sighed. "We're getting that checked out, though. It feels bad. Got it?"  
**"**Yeah, whatever," Sam said distractedly, unsteadily pushing himself to his feet and gripping the wall as the cellar seemed to tilt to the left dangerously. Dean grabbed his shoulder.

"You took one hell of a hit to the noggin. Stay sitting."

Sam ignored the last bit and began to run his fingers over the wall, searching for any gaps or loose bits of cement. "How are you? She must've knocked you out too, or you wouldn't be here."

"The bitch hit me with some sort of voodoo spell," Dean said, and Sam could clearly hear the sour disdain in his brother's voice at having been taken out by magic. "She'll regret it once we get out of here and waste her ass."

Sam lifted his eyes up, ignoring the ensuing dizziness. There was a large wooden trapdoor in the center of the ceiling. "So, we in a dungeon or something?"

"Not sure." Dean went to the wall. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "That kid says we're probably in an abandoned manor that's on the outskirts of town."

"Kid?" Confused, Sam swung his gaze around the room, until his eyes landed on a small figure in the corner that he hadn't even noticed yet. She was watching them quietly, hugging her knees. Her hair was bushy and long, but it was difficult to tell the color in the dark lighting.

"You okay?" Sam asked. She couldn't have been older than sixteen. It was one thing for him and Dean to be trapped in this cellar, but now that he knew there was someone else… it made the situation ten times more dire.

"Yeah," the girl said, her voice empty of anything that suggested she was fine.

"Witch took her hostage too." Dean shrugged. "I checked on her already. I think she's a bit freaked." He turned to address the girl. "Don't worry, kid. Sam and I know what we're doing."

"Don't worry?" the girl repeated. "How are you two being so calm about this? We're going to die. In a cold, wet cellar, in pitch blackness." She said the phrase again as though she didn't believe it. "We're going to die."

Sam made his way over to the girl and crouched next to her. "No one's dying. We're going to get you out of here and home, I promise."

"This ain't our first rodeo," Dean said from several feet back. "You stay out of the way and behind us, and we'll get you out of here."

"Behind you? We're locked in a cellar," the girl said, her voice trembling. "There's no way out. We're trapped."

"Not for long. We'll figure something out," Sam said, making direct eye contact with her. "We'll keep you safe."

The girl looked down, wringing her hands. Her small face was taut with apprehension, but she nodded slowly at the floor. Sam got back to his feet. He returned to the trapdoor and ran his fingers along the edge. A wave of wooziness made his vision tunnel and he swayed slightly, fighting down the sickening feeling that came along with the movement.

"Sam?" Dean was at his side instantly.

"I'm good," Sam said, closing his eyes and then opening them. "I'm fine. Just a bit dizzy."

"Yeah, bleeding out of the back of your head because of an egg-sized lump there is peachy. Just a bit dizzy, my ass."

"Shut up." Sam moved away from the trapdoor. There was no knob, no keyhole, nothing that they could use to open up the door. He felt the walls of the cellar, pausing at the side. "What are these?"

"Vents, I guess," Dean said, coming up beside him. "But I can't get them open."

"Did you try kicking them in?"

"No, I sat here and poked them gently with my index finger."

Sam sighed. "Then what's the plan?"

"That's what I've been trying to figure out while you were taking your little nap on the floor."

"I was bleeding from the head, you jerk."

"That doesn't stop me," Dean said, grinning. "Besides, the last hunt we were on, I was bulldozed by that chupacabra and you were the one to-"

"There's footsteps!" the girl suddenly said, her eyes widening with fear as she glanced up at the ceiling.

She was right. Sam hadn't even heard them at first, but there were creaking, soft footsteps above them, of someone moving slowly and quietly. Dean pushed him back to the corner of the cellar, blocking the girl from whatever was about to come through the trapdoor.

"When it opens, I'll go first," Dean muttered, just as the trapdoor swung open. A pale, wrinkled face appeared in the light above. Dean moved quickly, Sam right behind them, and for a moment he was sure that his brother would scale the trapdoor before the witch could do anything, until she opened her palm and a spark erupted from it.

"_Auferetur!_**" **she cried out, and an invisible force knocked Sam back, throwing him against the wall. His ears rang; the inside of his head felt like soup that had been sloshed about. He tried to roll back to his feet, but the force was keeping him pressed against the wall. Dimly he was aware of Dean shouting obscenities at the witch and the girl in the corner hugging herself even tighter, her head buried in her knees.

The witch clucked at them. "You're lucky you're not dead yet," she said in a wispy, thin voice. "I like my meals to have the chance to say goodbye to one another before I toast them."

"Brilliant," Dean muttered from across the room.

"Toast them?" Sam asked, the words difficult to enunciate with the raging thunder clapping in his head. He pressed his palm to his scalp; it came away sticky and wet. "You're... a cannibal witch?"

"That's what everyone says." The witch pursed her lips. "It runs in the family, I guess. My parents ate males only. My sister liked humans to taste a bit sweeter. That's why she lured them with gingerbread houses and all of those other nasty sugary foods. I like my meals to be healthier, with a nice hot toasting in the oven first."

The concussion in Sam's head won and his stomach finally revolted. He retched, spitting bile out onto the floor. He could feel Dean looking at him with concern but he refused to make eye contact, keeping his chin up and standing as tall as he could while being pressed against the wall.

"Oh, come on. Don't vomit. I don't want you to taste bitter," the witch said, shaking a thin finger at him.

"You the sister of the bitch that tried to eat Hansel and Gretel?" Dean asked.

"The one and only. Sarah is my name," the witch said, smiling widely. "Say your goodbyes. I'm turning the oven on now."

"Wait!" Sam said, staring at what he hoped was directly at the witch, though he wasn't completely sure because of the two witch figures blurring in and out of one another. _You need to kill time. Now. Improvise something, anything. _A small voice in the back of his head that sounded vaguely like his father's tone was the only thing that kept him from passing out.

"I... thought your sister only ate children. That's why she went after Hansel and Gretel," he said. "Why don't you?"

He half-expected her to ignore his question, but she didn't.

"Oh, I don't have a preference," she said cheerfully, and then added as an afterthought, "I do like siblings, though. I don't eat meals that aren't related. It makes the blood taste inconsistent."

"Then let her go," Dean said instantly. "Let the girl go. She's not related to us. Take me and my brother instead."

Sarah laughed; it was a chilling raw chuckle that might have passed as a violent cough. Goosebumps crawled up Sam's arms again, but this time it wasn't because of the cold drafts.

"I'm not stupid," she said. "I can smell all three of you. Don't try to trick me."

"She's not related to us," Dean said, staring her down from his position against the wall. "Let her go, or I swear to God I'm going to rip your ribs out from your chest and then stab you with them until-"

"Oh, stop with the violence." Sarah pulled her head out of the trapdoor. "I've been eating siblings for centuries, and my nose has never misled me. Your lies aren't going to do anything to save your sister." With that, she slammed the trapdoor, and Sam fell down as the spell released him from the wall.

There was a stunned silence in the cellar. Sam turned to the girl sitting in the corner, unsure of whether he was still frozen against the wall because of the witch's spell or her words.

_Your sister_. The words echoed in his mind but he couldn't comprehend them. _Your sister. _That girl, sitting silently in the corner, her puffy hair making her look as though she'd stuck a finger in an electrical socket, couldn't be their-

Before he could say anything, or even make eye contact with Dean, a fiery hot blast of air scalded his back. He stumbled forward and fell hard into the center of the room, gasping as pain flared across his head and back.

They weren't in a cellar, Sam realized, as the vents on the walls of the room glowed a bright orange, burning air permeating from them.

They were in an oven.

* * *

I'm grateful for any and all reviews! Thanks for reading; I plan to update as soon as possible - I'm aiming for this weekend!


	2. Into the Fire

Out of the frying pan, and into the fire. Of all the colorful, creative curses Dean had heard and used throughout his life, that stupid phrase was first to pop into his head when the vents turned on.

_Get Sam_was his next thought, but he grabbed the girl first, roughly grabbing her and pulling her away from the vents. The witch's words were still ringing in his head but he had already disregarded them; what mattered now was not being fried alive.

Sam had already sprung into action, digging at the trapdoor with his jackknife.

"What do we do?" the girl shouted at Dean over the roar of scalding air. "The trapdoor is locked!"

"We're going to pick the lock!" he said back, with much more confidence than he felt. Already the back of his neck was sweating and the air was becoming staggeringly thick. Sam was jamming the thin blade into the crack between the trapdoor and the ceiling, but Dean could already see the frustration on his brother's face.

"Let me," he said, grabbing at the knife, and for once, Sam didn't argue, but let him take over.

"Come on," he growled at the lock, digging into it with the knife. It was wide enough for the blade to fit in, but the latch was above the door, and he could barely reach it with the tip. He could see Sam's anxious face out of the corner of his eye.

"Dean, you need to hook it from underneath-"

"I know!" he snapped, and suddenly he felt the metal fumble under the blade of the knife - he had it in the tip - and with a small click he felt the latch unpop.

"Get the girl out first!" he said, pushing against the trapdoor to open it. It lifted an inch, but then with a resounding _thunk _stopped in place.

"Is it unlocked?" Sam joined him and heaved against the door; it lifted a crack, and wouldn't go any farther.

_There's a chain lock, too. _The realization made Dean's stomach plummet. He stuck his hand in the crack and felt for the lock; sure enough, there was a chain, but his hand couldn't fit through the crack to unlock it.

"Dammit!" Dean hurled the jackknife to the floor and slammed against the door with all of his strength. It halted with only an inch of a crack, leaving his fists ringing and throbbing. "Dammit, dammit, dammit!"

"Dean, stop!" Sam grabbed his arm. "Her hand can probably fit!"

Dean whirled around to the girl, who was standing close to Sam. She was practically hidden behind her mane of hair, and she was looking up at him with wide, terrified eyes.

"Okay." Dean leaned in to the girl. _Your sister_, the witch had said. That wasn't possible. It couldn't be. This girl wasn't a Winchester. She was scared, quiet, skinny. She couldn't be.

"You need to-" he began, but the girl interrupted him.

"I know, unlock it! I've been standing here too, you know!"

"Quickly!" Sam said, and without a word Dean lifted her up so that she could reach the low ceiling. Their lives depended on this girl's ability to unlock a trapdoor through a thin crack, Dean realized. The thought didn't make him feel any better.

"Do you have it?" he growled, hoisting her up higher just in case she couldn't reach it.

"Ow. Yeah, I'm working on it - the metal's just really hot -"

"Well, get over it, because we're about to burn!"

"You think I _want_to get smoldered to death?" the girl said, but there was more panic in her voice than anything. For twenty tantalizing seconds Dean stood there, blindly hoping that she could navigate the lock, when he felt her shift forward.

"Got it!" she said. "I did it!"

"Sam, you get out first, and lift her up." The words felt detached from Dean's mouth and a lightheaded cloud was beginning to settle over his head; he took a deep breath in and it only made him cough. "Now!"

Sam lifted the trapdoor open and climbed through quickly, lifting himself over the top with ease. The girl stepped back, but Dean shoved her forward. "You next, kid. Move!"

Sam's head poked down through the top and he put down both of his arms. The girl grasped his hands, and with Dean helping from below the girl was lifted out of the oven. Dean grabbed the edges of the door next, and within a moment his head emerged from the oven.

Air had never tasted so sweet.

He pulled himself all the way up and collapsed onto the floor, drawing in as many breaths as he could.

"It's okay, you're safe," he heard Sam saying, and he glanced over to see the girl sitting, shellshocked, and staring down at the trapdoor. "We've got it from here."

"She just tried to bake us," the girl said, and she glanced up at Dean. Now that they weren't in the dark lighting, he could see her better. Her hair was dirty blond, and was more puff than curl, wild and long. She had blue eyes, and small features. Her clothing was disheveled but Dean could tell she was dressed neatly, wearing a cardigan and skirt.

"Speaking of 'she'," he said, climbing to his feet with more difficulty than he expected, now that his adrenaline was dwindling, "Where's the witch?"

Sam glanced behind him. "Probably in her kitchen," he said disgustedly. "Blending some spices or something. You got something to kill her with?"

"The jackknife's still in the oven."

Sam looked uneasy. "I could jump back down and grab it. Or we could storm her and hope that we can get a knife from her kitchen before she-"

"Or we could use this gun right here," the girl said from behind them, gesturing into the closet. "There's some duffel bags in here with weapons."

"Duffel bags?" Dean was at the closet in an instant. For once, luck was on their side - the witch had stored their belongings and hadn't gotten rid of them. He grinned. "Sammy, let's go kill a witch. You, kid - stay here, in the closet."

The girl surveyed the closet with apprehension. "What if you get killed?"

Sam put his hand on his shoulder, bending slightly. Dean turned his attention to his duffel bag, relieved; kids weren't exactly his area of expertise.

"Listen…" Sam paused. "What's your name?"

"Anneliese Scott," she said promptly, as though answering the question in class. "I go by Nel, though."

"Okay. Nel. We do this all the time. But if something happens, keep this gun with you, and run like hell to the nearest house you can. Call 911 from there. Got it?" Sam put one of their lesser-used pistols in the girl's - Nel's, Dean told himself - hand.

"Yeah."

"Can you shoot a gun?" Sam asked her.

"Um, I've seen people do it in movies, so I could probably-"

"Sam, let's go," Dean said, his patience wearing thin. "Let's kill the witch and worry about dying later."

Sam gave Nel an apologetic glance. "Everything will be fine," he said. Dean glimpsed her pale face looking down at the gun in her hands as though she'd never even seen one before, and then Sam closed the door.

Just as Sam had predicted, the witch was in her kitchen. Dean slowed down, gripping his gun tightly.

_Chop, chop, chop. _The sound of the knife hitting a wooden cutting board drummed a rhythm in the room. Dean wouldn't be surprised if she was cutting up oregano to sprinkle over their would-be crispy corpses. He glanced over his shoulder at Sam, who despite his concussion was standing tall and alert.

_On three_, Dean mouthed to Sam. He held up a finger, then two, then three, then stepped out from behind the wall. He didn't waste any time in sending a bullet at her heart. The witch gave a small shriek and dove out of the way just as he fired. The window behind her shattered, sending glass across the counter.

"Dean! Down!" Sam shouted, and instinctually Dean ducked to the floor as gunfire rang above his head.

Silence.

"Did you get her?" he asked, getting to his feet warily. There was a table in the middle of the kitchen, and he could just see the witch's sprawled feet on the other side.

"Right in the forehead," Sam said, stepping forward to see on the other side of the table. "Unless she has some sort of regeneration spell or-"

There was a blinding flash of light. Dean had to shut his eyes; for a moment, he thought that there was an angel showing its visage in the kitchen, until the light flared cranberry and darkened.

"Sam, move!" Dean groped for Sam's shoulder and tackled him to the floor just as the light above them exploded. He felt the energy ripple above them, and then it was gone. Slowly, he lifted his head.

The cupboards were splintered and the dishes were in shards. Tipped on its side, table was propped against the wall like a lean-to, and the light fixture was dangling as though it were about to snap any moment. Standing in the middle of the wreckage was the witch, a bullet hole leaking blood above her right brow.

"_Igne animas!_**" **she screamed. **"**_Eorum corda manducant, aurantiaco lingua tua occidere eos-_**"**

"Shut up, bitch," Dean snarled, and pulled out his silver dagger. With a flick of his wrist the blade was spinning through the air, and with a _squip _it embedded itself in her neck. Sam snatched a large cutting knife that was fallen carelessly on the floor, and ran to the witch, pinning her against the wall. With a quick swipe of the knife, her head lolled off her neck and fell heavily to the floor.

Dean watched the head roll across the floor and come to a rocking stop in the center of the room. "She really lost her head," he said flatly, approaching her collapsed body and retrieving his dagger. It was slick with blood, but so was his shirt, so he wiped it on his side and stowed it in his pocket.

"That," Sam said, shaking his head, "was the worst pun I've ever heard."

"Let's get the hell out of here. Police are bound to come soon," Dean said. "Gunshots and bright cranberry lights tend to draw the neighbors' attention." A horrible sense of realization settled in his stomach. "Oh, no. I hope Baby's where we left her."

"What - Dean, the car is the _least _of our problems right now."

"Speak for yourself."

"We need to take care of Nel. The girl. We have to bring her home."

Dean's stomach plunged uncomfortably. "She's old enough to know her way home. She lives in this town."

"So we're just going to leave her in this wreck of a home to take a bus back? She was just almost burned alive!"

"So were we."

Sam gaped at him. "You're scared that the witch was telling the truth. You're afraid that we have a sister."

Dean spread his arms angrily. "Yeah? So what if I am? Do you feel like dealing with a-"

"A what?" came a voice from down the hallway. Nel edged into their vision. "Is the witch dead?"

"Yeah, I think so," Sam said, toeing the witch's body. "Decapitation with a silver blade and a witch killing bullet did the trick."

Nel entered the kitchen and looked down at the bloody body and detached head. Slowly, she brought a hand to her mouth. "You really killed her."

"She would've killed us if we didn't," Sam said, putting his hand on her shoulder and pulling her away from the view of the dead witch. "She'd be putting rosemary on us and we'd be part of her evening salad."

Nel's mouth drifted open. "She's really a witch, then?"

"Yeah." Dean looked at Nel closely. She didn't look like Mary, that was for sure. And she didn't look like John. At least, he didn't think so. Her nose might be the same, but then again, it wasn't as though noses were very distinct features-

_Stop it, Dean. The witch just said that to distract you. _

"You're taking it well," he said finally. "Most people freak out."

"Well…" Nel hugged herself. "You're going to think I'm insane."

"Try me."

"My dad… I only have one memory of him. He told me there were monsters out there, and that I should always watch out for them. I believed him at the time, because I was seven, but that was the last time I ever saw him. A couple of years later I decided he was just trying to scare me." Nel laughed slightly. "He was a bit absent, I guess. I figured he was trying to make me scared or something. But then, when I was seven, I saw something. I don't know exactly what it was, but it flickered, like a ghost. It... killed my family."

"I'm sorry," Sam said gently. "I wouldn't be surprised if it was. There are things out there that most people think only exist in horror movies. And today…" He nodded at the dead witch. "You just saw one of them."

Dean's heart was pummeling the inside of his rib cage. "Sam, we need to find the keys to the witch's car. Let's take Nel home." He gave Sam a meaningful look and they entered the foyer. Dean glanced back at Nel. She had already moved to the destroyed bookshelf, picking up ripped pages and skimming over them.

"Dean." Sam made full eye contact with him. "You know Dad slept around. It's not impossible that she's his."

"She's not," Dean said firmly. "She's not our sister."

"And if she is?"

"She's _not._**"**

"You're being irrational. Come on, think about it. She's about sixteen, and said she had an absent father. Besides, an absent father who disappeared when she was seven."

"So?" Dean tore his eyes away from Sam's and pored through the witch's possessions on the entryway bench, searching for a set of keys.

"So, that would be about nine years ago. That's when Dad died."

"It's a coincidence." Dean felt the jangle of keys and held them up triumphantly. "Let's go rescue Baby from an impending tow truck."

Sam sighed. "Nel?" he called out. She was at the door immediately, hair bouncing as she came to a stop.

"You found the keys?" she asked. "Should we wait for the police to arrive? They might need us to answer questions or something." She wrung her hands. "Wait. We're going to be arrested! Because there's a decapitated woman on the floor, and…" She looked faintly down at her hands. "They'll never believe us!"

"No," Dean said shortly. "We don't do the police."

"You don't _do _them?"

"We've had a few disagreements with the law," Sam said, shooting a smile at Nel. For some reason that Dean wasn't entirely sure, it grated on his nerves, so he picked up his pace, approaching the witch's car and studying it.

"A damn Prius," he said to himself, scowling at the vehicle. "Alright. Kid, get in the back. We're taking you home." He climbed into the car and started the engine; fortunately, there was a full tank of gas.

They were cruising along the main road by the time Nel spoke up again.

"So…" she began, clearing her throat. "The witch said something, before she turned the oven on. I mean, I don't believe her, but I just thought I'd bring it up. Not that I'm worried about it, or anything, but I was just thinking… well, because, you know, I wasn't sure…"

"That whole sibling thing? Nope." Dean gripped the steering wheel tighter. "Not true."

"How do you know? What was your dad's name?"

"It doesn't matter, because witches lie."

Nel was quiet only for ten seconds. "I'm sorry. I never asked for what your names are."

Dean didn't answer. It took Sam all of five seconds to realize that he wouldn't be giving Nel a response, and after sending Dean a sharp look, he took over.

"I'm Sam. This one here, the rude one, is Dean," Sam explained.

"Turn right here," Nel said suddenly, and Dean took a rough turn onto a pothole-ridden road that led up a gradual hill. "Sorry. I should've warned you."

"Stop apologizing," Dean said, pressing down on the accelerator. He'd be damned if he was going to take it easy on this ugly Prius. "How much farther?"

"It's just a couple miles up here," Nel said.

Sam turned around in his seat. "So, uh, Nel… have you always lived in Boulder?"

"Yeah. My grandparents have always lived in Colorado, and never have wanted to go anywhere else." Nel shrugged. "It's where my parents met, too."

Dean felt her looking at him sideways. He didn't take the bait.

_Don't say anything, Sam_. But Sam opened his mouth and asked the question Dean knew that he would.

"That would've been sixteen years ago, right?" he said, sending Dean a quick look that he didn't like at all.

"Yeah," Nel confirmed.

Sam was still looking at Dean but he ignored him. It was obvious what Sam was thinking but he had no interest in acknowledging it. The only thing he wanted right now was to drop the kid off, find the Impala, and take off to the bunker, never to return to Boulder again.

Because they _had _been here before, sixteen years ago. Sam was starting his senior year of high school and Dean had started going on every single hunt with their father. He didn't remember John having a little rendezvous with one of the local women, but…

_No. No, no, no. Don't even think about it_.

"It's that house right there. The cream colored one," Nel said, pointing ahead. Dean eased the car into the driveway and came to a stop. Once the engine fell silent, the air was uncomfortably quiet.

"I never thanked you," Nel said. "For saving me."

"It's part of our job," Sam said, smiling at her.

"Alright. See you," Dean said, giving her a look intended to mean _Get out of the car now. _He purposely unlocked the car to prompt her to move faster. To his relief, Nel opened the door, and climbed out, but a moment later she hesitated.

"What?" he asked. "Forget something?"

"No."

"Then what is it?"

"Look, the witch said I was your sister. Are you sure that she was lying? What _if _she wasn't?"  
Dean's eyes met hers. _Maybe _she had John's eyes. She was pale, though, and had a small frame. She'd never used a gun before. She was wearing a skirt, for God's sake.

"She _was_lying," he said gruffly, then added pointedly, "Sam and I have to get out of town."

Nel crossed her arms and stood outside the car as though nervous. The wind was blowing hard, and her hair and skirt were rippling wildly. "My dad was John Winchester," she said finally. "Is… is that your father?"

The words hit Dean like a freight train. "No," he said stiffly. "Our dad's name was Bobby. Bobby Singer."

Nel's face fell. "Oh. Right." She moved away from the car as though she'd been electrocuted. "Bye, then."  
**"**Nel," Sam said, his smile strained. "You're a good kid. Just… put this all behind you, okay? You don't want to waste your life preoccupied with monsters, trust me. Pretend you never met us and let your life go back to normal."

"I'll try." She smiled at them. "It was nice to meet you, Sam and Dean." With that, she closed the door, and began down her driveway, turning once to glance back at them. Dean stuck the car in reverse and didn't look back at the house once.

* * *

Twenty minutes. That's how long Dean was guessing it would take for Sam to try to have a conversation with him. He could tell by the way Sam was looking at him out of the corner of his eye, clearing his throat slightly, tapping his hand against the seat.

He wasn't far off. They were back in the Impala, which had fortunately been left unharmed where they had parked her. It was eighteen minutes after they'd dropped Nel off when he opened his mouth.

"Dean, we need to talk about Nel," Sam said.

"We don't need to. There's nothing to say. She's a kid that we saved and now we move on, just like we do with every other damn job that we take," Dean said, refusing to peel his eyes from the road to look at Sam. "Got it?"

"No, Dean, I don't." Sam exhaled slowly. "She's our half-sister. John Winchester is her father. There's no denying it."

"There's lots of men called John Winchester out there. It's not a rare name."

"Really, Dean? You're going to do this?" Sam narrowed his eyes. "I'll humor you, then. Anneliese Scott. Did you ever hear Dad mention the name?"

"No."

"Me neither." Sam sat still for a moment and then dug into the backseat. A moment later he turned back around, their dad's old, withered journal in his hands.

"Oh, come on. That wasn't a diary," Dean said. "It wasn't like Dad kept a record of everyone he got laid with."

"I'm just checking."

"It's a waste of time, Sam."

Wordlessly Sam held the book open for him. Dean glanced away from the road long enough to see "Boulder, Colorado" with the date scribbled across the top. "So? Coincidence."

"Look at the bottom, Dean."

In small black letters, at the bottom, there was a phone number, followed by the name Scott.

"That's Nel's last name," Sam said, closing the journal. "This entry dates back sixteen years, Dean. The witch said she'd never been wrong. Hell, everything Nel has said lines up with it. She had an absent father who vanished when she was seven? This isn't a fluke, Dean."

Dean's chest felt tight, as though someone had bound it and cut off his airways. A sister. A sister with long, puffy hair, a sister who wore a skirt and a cardigan, and stayed in the closet while they killed the witch. The thought made his stomach churn.

"Okay, so we have a half-sister that Dad never told us about," he snapped. "That doesn't change anything."

Sam stared at him as though he'd just announced that he was never going to hunt again. "Dean, that means we have _family_. It changes everything. Having another sibling doesn't mean anything to you?"

"Yeah, it does, actually. It means that we're never coming back to Boulder ever again."

"She's our sister!"

"Half-sister," Dean corrected.

"So, what? We're just going to pretend she's nobody and ignore that she exists? She's our blood." Sam lifted his hands. "Our _blood_. We can't just throw her back to her grandparents' house and say that we'll never come here again."

"Sure we can. We just did." Dean gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were pure white. "If you want to come back for little apple pie family reunions, then you do that. But don't expect me to join in."

He could see Sam curling his fists. Sam was pissed, he could tell, but that wasn't going to change his mind.

"I can't believe you, Dean," Sam said. "Even for you, this is low."

"Low?" Dean jerked the car to the right and slammed on the brakes. They came to a violent halt, jolting forward as the Impala grinded to a stop. He got out of the car and slammed the door, scrubbing his hand over his face. He heard Sam follow, closing the door softer, and lean over the edge of the Impala.

"You're terrified." Sam's voice wasn't questioning, it was stating, and it made Dean's anger swell.

"Terrified? I'm pissed. I'm pissed at Dad for going around and having kids without ever telling us. I'm pissed that we've been blindsided _again_, because everything in this world seems to be our damn responsibility, and I'm tired of it." Dean turned around and jammed his finger downwards to the ground. "But most of all? It's Adam. Adam, our half-brother, down there burning in Hell."

"I thought of that too." Sam's face was grim, his jaw tense.

"Last time we found out about a long lost half-sibling, it blew up in our faces. Now Adam's stuck in the Cage, because of us." A semi-truck roared by them, sending an arid wave of dust and fumes at them. "And by the way, I don't give a crap about Nel. I'm sick of the responsibilities, and I want nothing to do with her, let alone have her life be our burden."

Sam bit his lip. "Dean, I know. I get it, I do. I still wake up in the middle of the night and guilt keeps me up for hours. But those were angels that interfered, and there was nothing we could do. Whether we knew about Adam or not, he was screwed from the beginning."

Dean said nothing. Sam was right, he knew, but it didn't make him any less inclined to want to see Nel again. He stalked to the trunk of the Impala and grabbed a beer, popping it open and taking a swig. Sam watched him carefully.

"Want me to drive back?" he asked. "You can get wasted, or do whatever the hell it is you need to do to calm down a bit."

_He's mad at me._Fair enough.

"No," Dean said, taking another sip and putting the cap back on. "I'll drive." He closed the trunk a bit harder than necessary and took the front seat again, turning on the ignition. "And we're stopping at a clinic, by the way."

"Dean, I'm fine."

_He thinks he can protest his way out of this._

"No way. We're stopping. That's a bad concussion, and we're not going back without getting it looked at," he said. Sam sighed and got in the passenger seat, and didn't say anything more, instead taking out a book and beginning to read through it.

They didn't speak again until they were back in Lebanon.

**A/N: **I'm so grateful to every person that has already favorited and followed - it's so inspiring! Thanks also to everyone who has left reviews, they mean the world!


	3. On the Road Again

Onto chapter 3. SpnFan119 brought it to my attention that there's some weird formatting going on when I used italicized words… I tried to fix it but for some reason it's being a bit difficult. I apologize for the technical issues, I'm hoping that I can get them to stop!

* * *

As far as Sam could tell, Dean was pretending that Nel didn't exist. One week had passed without any mention of her, and every time that Sam tried to bring it up, Dean either changed the subject or simply left the room. At first, as much as it made Sam's insides curl up to ignore that they had a half-sister, he didn't push it.

Sam knew that Dean liked to stow his shit away where he would never have to address it again, but this was almost too much. The way Sam saw it was that they had failed to save Adam, and now Nel was a second chance.

He waited until two weeks after they returned from Boulder. Two weeks for Dean to stew over what had happened, process that they had a half-sister, and get over his trepidation of the situation.

"More coffee?" he asked, sliding the steaming pot across the table. Dean was wearing his bathrobe, and was still half-asleep; Sam reasoned that it would be easiest to talk to his brother in the morning, when he wasn't fully awake yet.

Dean didn't even answer. He grasped the pot and slowly poured himself a tall cup of black coffee, took a sip without blinking, and set his cup back down.

"Okay. Dean, I've been thinking," Sam said, pouring himself his own cup of coffee. "We have a sister. There's nothing you can say that will change that."

Dean's eyes lifted up, sleep clearing from them. "Then let's not say anything about it."

"No. We've been doing that for two weeks and it's not right."  
**"**Yeah? You know what else isn't right? Involving her in our lives. Within a year we'll have to bury her dead body."

"Don't even say that," Sam said sharply. "You know that isn't what I mean. I'm not saying we bring her back to the bunker and take her on hunts and induct her into the fold."

"Then what the hell are you trying to tell me?"  
**"**I'm saying that it's not all or nothing!" Sam stood up and paced the length of the kitchen, running his hands through his hair. "Look, she lives with her grandparents. It's not like she'd be involved in our hunting lives. What if, after all this time, we've been given a lucky break, and finally we'll have someone to call family aside from each other? What if this is meant to be?"

Dean snorted. "Oh, come on-"

"I'm serious. We don't need to see her every week, not even every month. But to have someone new in the family… if you haven't noticed, we're a bit short on family these days."

"You think I need a reminder?" Dean stood up too, his eyes flashing.

"No. I'm saying that we've lost too many people we care about. Charlie, Bobby, Mom, Dad - hell, we've lost each other multiple times, Dean. We've been given this chance to have more family, and we're not going to take it?"

For a moment, Sam thought that he'd convinced Dean. His brother's green eyes were watching him carefully, absorbing each word and considering it. A sudden absurd image popped into his head, of a Christmas where it wasn't just the two of them alone, but accompanied by a girl with wild hair and blue eyes.

"No."

"No?" Sam repeated the word. "That's all you have to say? 'No'?"

Dean held up three fingers. "Yeah, and I'll tell you why. One, as far as I'm concerned, one younger sibling is enough, and we don't have the time or money to do anything with her. Two, I've learned enough in life to know that everyone who gets close to us ends up dead. And three? I don't care about her. We're better off spending our time saving some schmuck who's being haunted by some sort of bloodsucking monster than having to listen to a teenage girl talk about… kittens and clothing, or whatever it is that teenage girls talk about."

Sam set down his coffee and didn't say another word. Nor did Dean.

* * *

**One Month Later**

* * *

"Okay, take your pick," Dean said, entering the library with several papers in his hand. "I've been scouring the web and there's four potential hunts we could take on."

Sam closed his eyes. "We just got back from Mississippi, Dean. I mean, I love the Impala too, but sometimes a break from the road is good."

"Not when there's people dying," Dean said, his eyes lit with fervor.

"And since when do you _scour _the Internet?" Sam didn't wait for an answer but grabbed the papers from Dean and scanned the messy notes. "A ghoul in Maine… a vamp nest in Seattle…" He squinted at the writing. "People are being _banged _to death in San Diego?"

"What? No, they're being hanged."

"Your penmanship sucks, dude," Sam said, continuing to the last line. "And a salt and burn in South Carolina. Really?"

"What? You want me to find something different?" Dean asked. "I could try to find some werewolves. Or maybe even a wendigo, if you feel like camping."

"No, Dean - were you trying to find the hunts as far as possible from Kansas?" Sam asked, throwing the papers down and rubbing his eyes. "At least find something that's within a four hour radius."

"I wanted to get out of the bunker," Dean said defensively. "Is that a problem?"

"Yeah. We've been on the road for a month. I was kind of hoping we'd get to stay in the bunker for a week."

"And do what? Read some books? Do spring cleaning?" Dean picked the papers back up and handed them to Sam. "Just pick a hunt, man, just one. I'm itching to kill something. Then we can come back and take a mini break."

That was how they ended up on the road again, on the way to Seattle, only three hours later. The route took them through Denver, and Sam was sure that Dean hadn't missed the sign that indicated Boulder was only thirty miles away. But they drove past it, Sam not daring to bring it up, and went straight to Seattle without stopping at a motel.

It was supposed to be one hunt. Find where the vamps lived, storm their nest, chop off their heads - in and out. At most, Sam expected the hunt to last three days, if not two.

The nest took four days to find. Bodies kept dropping each night, but they couldn't find the connection between the victims for several days. Once they found the nest, it took only a night to go in and kill all of the vamps, but that was only the beginning.

"An underground operation," Sam had said, slapping some papers down in front of Dean. "The vamp leader had a bunch of maps and files in his office. I looked into it, and get this - there's a secret movement involving safety houses and blood drive smuggling to make a haven for vampires."

Dean's mouth had opened in confusion. "What, like Harriet Tubman?"

"It's similar. There's a route mapped out, with all of the vamp nests in the area. See here?" Sam pointed at the green triangles leading from San Francisco to Vancouver. "Those are all safe houses."

Dean's finger traced the green triangles up to the bold black circle in Vancouver. "Is that the final destination? Hotel Vampire?"

"Seems like it," Sam said. "Dean, this is huge. Not only does this map mean that the vamps have some form of communication and unity as a species, but-"

"It also gives the location of hundreds of the creeps," Dean said. A smile had grown across his face. "Want to go on a vamp beheading spree, Sammy?"

Now, instead of heading back to the bunker, they were on their way to San Francisco, to work their way up the safe houses and kill the system of vamps. Better to start at the beginning and make their way up to Vancouver, Sam had reasoned, or the vamps might figure out sooner that hunters were on to them.

_So much for taking a week off at the bunker_.

"Pizza or Thai?" Dean asked suddenly. The sky was turning pale as evening arrived, and Sam had drifted off to the hum of the Impala as they drove south. He straightened in his chair and glanced out the window. They were at a red light; up ahead, there was a large display advertising Gordy's Pizza, and next to it was a neon sign for Frangipani Thai Cuisine.

"Where are we?" he asked. He hadn't felt like he'd been asleep for long, but then again, the sun was much lower in the sky than the last time he'd seen it.

"Canyonville, Oregon. So - pizza or Thai?"

"I wouldn't go to Gordon's Pizza." The voice that answered Dean's question came from the backseat, stoic and baritone.

Sam jumped. "Cas!"

"If I were driving, I would've just swerved off the road. You really need to call ahead or something," Dean grumbled. "And why not pizza?"

"There was an outbreak of food poisoning there last year," Cas said, frowning. "I don't trust Gordy's Pizza."

"Why do you even know that?"

"I came through this town last year. I saw the newspapers. I also have a very good memory."

Dean sighed. "Want to get some Thai with us, Cas?"

Ten minutes later, they had squeezed into a red and white booth with torn leather and a sticky table. Cas was studying the menu with a look of concentration that reminded Sam of the LSATs back at Stanford.

"Can I get you some drinks?" their waitress said, coming over. She was in her low thirties, Sam assumed, and was very pretty; her silky dark hair was braided into a ponytail and she had clear, bright eyes, the color of rich coffee.

Dean instantly ran a hand through his hair and his disposition changed from tired to mischievous.

"Mali," he said, reading her nametag. "That's really… dazzling. It fits you well."

Mali blushed. "It was my grandmother's name," she said, pushing a loose strand of hair out of her face. Cas looked utterly confused at the interaction and Sam rolled his eyes, giving Mali an apologetic look.

"You know, Mali, I think I'm leaning towards a hot tea," Dean said. "Are there any flavors you'd recommend?"

Mali fumbled for words, her cheeks pink, and Sam took the chance while he had it.

"Oh, don't bother telling him the flavors," he cut in, smiling at Mali. "He'll have an iced water." He turned to Dean. "Come on, man. You know tea goes right through you. I don't want a repeat of what happened the last time you drank tea."

Dean's smile had slid off of his face quicker than ice cream melting in the sun.

"I'll have a water, too," Cas said to Mali, who was looking at Dean uneasily.

"Water is fine for me too, thanks," Sam said, and the waitress took off, glancing over her shoulder with a wrinkled nose.

Dean glared icily at Sam. "Dude! You ruined any chance I had!"

"Of what, getting laid?" Sam said, grinning at his brother. "We have to stay focused. Vamp nests, remember?"

"Vamp nests?" Cas asked, his brow furrowed. "Is that where you're headed?"

"There's a network of nests leading up to a major vamp safe haven in Vancouver," Sam explained. "We're going to knock them all out, one at a time."

Cas looked from Sam to Dean, and then back to Sam again, a small, content smile on his face. "You two will never stop hunting. It exudes your human nature, which is quite frankly fascinating." Cas squinted at the menu. "What sort of menu includes the word 'ew' in its dishes? I was under the impression that 'ew' was colloquially a term of disgust."

"It's pad see ew, Cas," Sam said, without bothering to look up. "It's not pronounced the same. And I think it has peanuts and broccoli in it."

"I'll order that, then," Cas decided, setting his menu down.

"I thought food tasted horrible, you being an angel and all," Dean said, waving his hand. "Can't you taste every molecule or something?"

Cas heaved a sigh. "It is, unfortunately, one of the downsides of being a celestial being. But I've gotten more adept at perceiving human food as a general taste, rather than detecting each microscopic piece. It takes practice."

Something stirred in Sam's memory. "Cas… remember when Lucifer wanted me as his vessel, and Michael wanted Dean?"

"Of course. Why?"

"Because you knew about Adam then, too. The angels knew about Adam - he was the back-up plan," Sam said.

Dean's face cleared in understanding of what Sam was getting at and he leaned back, scowling. Sam ignored him and continued.

"Heaven knew about Adam, even when we didn't," he said. "Does that mean… did you know that we have a half-sister?"

Cas hesitated. "You found out about her?"

"Why? You knew?" Dean said immediately.

"Well, yes. She would have been the third choice for Michael's vessel if Dean and Adam both fell through."

Dean groaned. "Really, Cas? You knew all along that we have a damn little sister and you never thought to tell us?"  
**"**Dean, Heaven kept it very secret," Cas said in earnest. "Only a few angels, including my garrison, knew about it. We didn't want anyone else to interfere and kill Anneliese. Uriel was very strict about it."

"Great." Dean threw his napkin down. "Awesome. I can't believe this."

Cas turned to Sam. "Is he being sarcastic?"

"Yeah, he is," Sam confirmed. "Dean, it's not a big deal. I was just wondering if he knew. It's not going to change anything."

Dean snorted and mumbled something unintelligible under his breath.

"Oh, it changes things," a deep voice said from behind them. Sam twisted around; behind them, one of the other patrons in the bar, a heavy man taller and wider than him, was standing up. "It changes _everything_." The man's smile was unnerving, like a cat who had just caught a mouse.

"He's a demon," Cas said brusquely.

"What do you want?" Dean said, pulling out his knife. "Tell us quickly, before I put this blade in your forehead."

"From back there?" the demon wiggled his eyebrows. "I don't think so, Winchester."

Mali suddenly came from out of the kitchen. She halted at the confrontation, and Sam quickly gestured at her to go away. She took a step back fearfully and hurried away, glancing over her shoulder anxiously.

"Did Crowley send you?" Sam asked. Slowly, he moved his hands towards his jacket pocket, where he had his silver knife. It wouldn't kill the demon, but it could do some damage.

"No." The demon grinned. "I'm a freelance assassin. And now I've found myself a new target. Who knew there was a little girl Winchester?"

Something in Sam felt like it had snapped. "Don't you dare," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "I swear, if you touch her, we're going to-"

"Send me to Hell? Oh, no. I'm scared. Please don't," the demon said dryly. He eyed them. "I'd love nothing more than to kill you three, but I'm not stupid, either. One on three isn't a good chance."

"Want to find out for sure?" Sam asked, edging closer.

"Nope." The demon's eyes flicked black. "Anneliese. Such a pretty name. Well, I've got a little murdering to do." He saluted them, and within the blink of an eye he was gone.

"Shit. Let's go." Sam got out of the booth, checking his phone. It was five in the evening; if they drove quickly, they could get to Boulder by noon the next day. "Dean, I know you said that we were never going back to Oregon, but there's no way that we're going to do nothing."

"Yeah, I know, we have to get her before the demon does," Dean snapped. "Let's go. Cas, you coming?"

Cas froze. "Heaven's in an uproar."

"What? What happened?"

Cas didn't bother answering, and with a swoosh of wings he vanished.

"Why does he do that?" Dean pushed open the restaurant door roughly. "Is whatever is happening in Heaven really so urgent that he can't give us a damn explanation?"

"Maybe we don't even want to know right now," Sam said, suddenly feeling exhausted. "Let's get Nel and deal with Cas later."

They got into the Impala, slamming the doors. Dean turned the key in the ignition and the car roared to life.

"As much as I don't like this," Dean said, backing out from their parking spot, "you're right." He spun the wheel with agility and they pulled onto the main road. "Let's go save our little sister."

******A/N: **The reviews mean so much! I'm so grateful for everyone that's left such nice comments, and I wish I could respond to you Guest reviewers but I can't - so know that it puts a smile on my face when you leave a message :) Thank you all!


	4. Never the Twain Shall Meet

This chapter will have much more of Nel in it. I also tried to make this chapter longer; from here on, the chapters will have more content in them!

Also, sorry it took me so long to get this out - early action college applications are due and I've been super busy!

* * *

The demon only had her first name - Anneliese. They hadn't said her last name, or where she lived. This bit of knowledge was the only thing that kept Sam from getting too anxious. Despite all of Dean's opposition to ever doing anything concerning Nel again, he was driving at least ten over the speed limit the whole way.

"We didn't say where she lived, did we?" Sam asked.

"I don't think so." Dean's voice had softened but his eyes were set, focused on the road intently. "We'll get there first, Sammy."

"And if we don't?"

Dean paused. "If we don't, then we do what we always do. We deal."

Sam managed a smile. "Yeah, we'll deal _poorly_. Winchesters aren't renowned for their coping methods."

"There's nothing to cope with yet," Dean reminded him. "She might be fine. Then we'll kill the demon and never darken her doorstep again."

"In a world where luck is on our side, that would happen," Sam said. "Dean, have you ever even met us? _Nothing _goes our way, ever."

"Whether she'll be okay or not, this is exactly why we should have never met Nel," Dean reminded him. "This is Exhibit A of why I don't want her in our lives. Demons take advantage of any leverage that they can have against us, and just because we _met _her once she's already in danger."

"I know." Sam watched the rural Nevada desert roll by the car. It was dark now, and he could only see through the window every two hundred feet when a pale streetlight briefly lit up the road.

"So what's the plan?" Dean said after several minutes.

"I don't know. It might take the demon several days to find her, or it could take hours," Sam said. "We could storm into her house, guns blazing, but that probably won't go over well with her grandparents. I doubt Nel would appreciate it if we gave them a heart attack."

"Loiter outside her house, then? The creepy stalker plan?" Dean asked.

"We could park across the street and keep an eye on things." Sam chewed his lower lip. "I don't know. It's too risky to wait. Maybe we should go the FBI route. We can get access inside without freaking out her grandparents."

"Sounds good." Dean paused. "Honestly, dude, we need another alias aside from the FBI."

"FBI is the only one that people believe. Insurance works, but then we're not intimidating."

"Yeah, but I hate the suits. Maybe we could pose as undercover cops, so we don't have to change clothing every time."

Sam shook his head. "That wouldn't go over well."

"Maybe someday." Dean rummaged in the backseat and blindly grabbed a cassette tape. "How about some Lynyrd Skynyrd?" he asked, popping the tape in. "Lighten the mood a bit?"

Sam didn't bother answering; anything he said would have been drowned out by the blaring introductory notes of Free Bird. Feeling slightly anxious, he pulled out his phone and put Boulder, Colorado into his GPS.

Eleven hours and forty-three minutes to go.

* * *

"You up to anything exciting this weekend?"

At first, Nel didn't hear the question. She was intensely focused on her pancakes in front of her. It was something of a talent, she decided, to butter pancakes while they were hot, and then cut them, without the butter slipping off into a puddle at the bottom of the plate.

"What?" she said distractedly, looking up from the pancake and giving her grandfather an apologetic look.

"He asked if you're up to anything this weekend," her grandmother clarified. "George, you need to speak up when you talk. Last week Nancy was telling me about how her husband mumbles now when he talks. And he used to be such a chatterbox! Can you imagine?"

"No," Nel said, out of obligation, and smiling. "And, no, I'm not doing anything."

"You're the only teenager I've ever known to have a car and not go anywhere in it," her grandmother said, holding out the pancakes. "More?"

"No, thank you." Nel stood, smoothing her shirt. "Thanks for breakfast, Gram, it was really good." She escaped to the kitchen to clean off her plate before returning to her room upstairs. Her grandparents, she had discovered many years ago, were just as talkative as they were pleasant to be around. Usually she didn't mind too much, but she was swamped with homework and the blank lab report sitting on her desk upstairs was antagonizing her.

"Okay," she muttered to herself once she entered her room. "Get it done, then you can relax." She reluctantly sat down at the desk, frowning at the lab report. Biology was her least favorite subject by far, and enzymes, substrates, and inhibitors were the very last topics she felt like writing about at the moment.

It was just before 9 in the morning.

_Okay. Focus. Just work for one hour, and then take a break_.

The sun was shining brightly in her bedroom. It was a beautiful spring day - not too hot nor too cool. It was the kind of weather that meant flowers, shorts, and barefeet. She worked ardently, intent on finishing before her room got too warm. It was the last assignment that she had for biology in her junior year. Tuesday would be the last day of school, and knowing how close summer vacation was made it all the more difficult to focus.

Her room was in the back corner of the house, facing east, so it was bright and sunny in the mornings. Her grandfather liked to call her a hermit; she spent more time in her room than anywhere else. Nel had it decorated with lavender wallpaper, stringed butterflies going across the ceiling, and pineapple-shaped Christmas lights lining the walls.

But, unbeknownst to her grandparents, not everything in her room was cheery anymore. There was a foot long dagger that she kept under her pillow nowadays. Getting kidnapped on her way home from school by a cannibalistic witch tended to make a person a bit paranoid.

She kept it on hand just in case. Nel didn't expect anything else to happen, but those men she'd met, Sam and Dean, had emphasized that there were monsters out there. And now that she'd experienced firsthand a witch try to bake them in an oven, she wasn't taking any chances.

Sam and Dean. She thought about them at least every day. They fascinated her just as much as they were intimidating - which was quite a bit. She'd been so sure, for a brief, jubilant moment, that she had more family than just her grandparents. After her mother, step-father, and step-siblings had died years ago, at the hands of what she was positive was a spirit, Nel only had two people left. Believing Sam and Dean were her brothers, despite how briefly it lasted, had been exhilarating. But that was just a fairytale dream, and she'd let her hopes get up dangerously high. Dean had said their father's name was Bobby Singer. Hers was John Winchester.

They weren't siblings, that was that, and she went back to her normal life as though nothing had ever happened.

_Due to the induced fit of the bound substrate, the enzyme…_

She paused. The sentence had fled her mind. _The enzyme… what? _

There was a knock on the door downstairs. She heard the creak of the door and her grandmother's chipper voice answer whoever was there ("Oh, of course! Come in! There's coffee brewing if you'd like some!"). Slowly, she glanced at the clock, slightly afraid of what it would say.

10:39.

She jolted, startled at how much time had passed.

"Gram?" she called, opening her bedroom door. "Are there people coming over?"

There was no answer. A resounding silence rang through the house. Nel glanced into her grandfather's study; he was sitting at his desk, looking at a book through narrow glasses.

"Grandpa?" she said, poking her head in. "Are there people coming?"

He lifted his gaze, squinting at her above the lenses. "Not that I'm aware of. Your grandmother probably called up Nancy." He leaned forward slightly and added in a stage whisper, "I think she spends more time with old Nancy than me these days, wouldn't you say? Do you think I should be worried?"

"Grandpa, she's just excited to have a friend," Nel said, grinning at him. "Do I dare go downstairs?"

"Proceed at your own risk. You might get roped into an hour-long conversation and coffee," her grandfather responded, winking at her and turning back to his book.

Nel continued down the stairs, leaning over the railing for a glimpse into the living room without having to enter it.

She could just see her grandmother's elbow from where she was sitting in her chair. There was still silence - whoever had been here must have left.

"Who was at the door, Gram?" Nel asked, coming into the living room. "Grandpa said it was probably Nancy-".

She froze.

Her grandmother was tied up, duct tape over her mouth and wrapped around her head. Her eyes were filled with tears and she was shaking her head desperately at Nel.

"Gram?" she said, running to her grandmother and tugging at the rope. It was tied tightly - she'd need to get a knife to break through it.

"Grandpa!" she shouted. "Grandpa, someone-" She fell silent suddenly, clapping a hand over her mouth.

_Whoever tied up Gram is probably still here. _

Her grandfather must have heard the fear in her voice, because he came down the stairs quicker than she'd seen in all the years she'd lived with them.

"Nel?" he said, coming over and. Confusion crossed his face as he looked to his wife, but then suddenly there was another voice from the other side of the room.

"I thought you'd be taller."

Nel whirled around. There was a towering, heavy man leaning against the wall. She hadn't heard him come in, and her heart pounded so painfully that she vaguely wondered if she was having a heart attack.

"Height tends to be genetic," the man said, wrinkling his nose at Nel. "You're no more than 5 foot 6, are you? And here I thought I'd be facing a six foot Amazon."

"Who are you?" Nel asked, backing up.

"Excuse my forgetfulness. My name's Malphas."

"What are you doing here?" Nel's grandfather demanded. "Tell me!"

"Calm down, old man. You'll live. I'm not one for mass murder. That one, however…" Malphas nodded at Nel. "I plan on sticking a knife through her skull."

"Get out of my house," her grandfather whispered, his voice chillingly quiet. "I'm going to call the police. You'd better clear out unless you want to deal with them."

Malphas ignored her grandfather and grinned at Nel. "Come on, where's your gun, Winchester? Didn't Daddy ever teach you how to fight the things that go bump in the night?"

The use of her father's last name took her off guard. "Don't talk about my father," she said stiffly. "And you heard my grandpa. Get out."

"I heard him. Too much talking for my taste." Malphas snapped his fingers and her grandfather coughed next to her as bindings sprang out around his arms and chest, and duct tape wrapped itself around his mouth.

"Grandpa?" Nel was at his side immediately, easing him down as he toppled sideways.

"Spare me the emotions." Malphas waved his hand and both her grandmother and grandfather were shoved backwards against the wall with a painful _crack_. Nel spun around, petrified, in time to see his eyes turn an obsidian black for several seconds before blinking back to a normal hazel.

_Fight or flight? _Her mind was whirring and she turned back to her grandparents, pleading with her eyes on what to do. Her grandfather made a small sound, looking at her with fear. _Run_, he told her with his eyes.

Nel ran. She could hear Malphas laughing behind her. Horror rose in her throat when she seized the knob of the front door and it didn't budge, as though superglued by some invisible force.

"Now it's just you and me," Malphas said, walking towards her lazily with his hands in his pockets. "I can't wait to hear what everyone else in Hell has to say once I've murdered the youngest Winchester."

"Get out of my house!" Nel screamed, and she grabbed the nearest thing she could - a glass swan that her grandmother polished every day - and hurled it at him. It crashed into his head, shattering loudly as shards skittered across the floor. He stopped briefly, reaching up to pull a piece of lodged glass out of his skin, and Nel took the chance to dash up the stairs.

She made a beeline for her knife. The cold handle was assuring in her hand, as though it were a friend that was suddenly there. As silently as possible she slipped into her closet and shut the door, breathing heavily in the blackness. Holding the knife in front of her proved to be almost impossible, her hands were shaking so badly.

"I'm not here to play hide-and-seek!" Malphas called up the stairs. She heard his slow footsteps as he began to ascend to the upper floor and her heart thrashed in her chest. "You're only prolonging the inevitable."

_Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. _His footfalls were heavy. _Clunk. _Nel heard the subtle change in the acoustics of the footsteps - he'd reached the top of the stairs. His words were echoing in her mind. Youngest Winchester, he'd called her. Only now the words registered with Nel. As far as she knew, she was the only surviving Winchester. Unless…

"I can smell your fear, stupid girl," he said. She could see his shadow from under the door. "Hiding in the closet, are you?"

Nel braced the knife against her chest, gripping it so tightly that her knuckles felt like they would burst through her skin.

There was a knocking on her closet door, followed by his snide voice. "Come out, come out, little Winchester. The more impatient I become, the more painful your death will be."

Her nerves felt as though they were charged with a hundred volts of electricity.

The closet door suddenly swung open so roughly that it was yanked off of its hinges with inhuman strength. There was a horrible creak of the rust being torn away from the doorframe, and dusty wood chips flew through the air. Nel lunged forward, knife tip outwards, and swung the blade forward, not caring where she hit as long as she was making contact with his skin.

"Ah!" Malphas stumbled backwards as a long gash opened up from his left ear to his lower chin. "You bitch!" He clutched at his face, blood seeping through his fingers, and Nel took the opportunity to swing one more time, this time plunging the knife into his shoulder and back out again, as though he were a pin cushion. He bellowed in rage, slapping her across the face, and she fell back.

"You're going to die a painful death," he snarled, and dread flooded her bones as a grin crept across his face. "I want you to burn. I'm going to set you on fire and you're going to turn to ash and charred bones."

He raised his hand, ready to snap his fingers, when suddenly his eyes widened and he cursed under his breath.

"You messed with the wrong family," came a familiar voice from behind her. Nel spun her head around - Sam was directly behind her, holding a small knife, and beside him was Dean. "Nel, get back," Sam said, urging her backwards. She jumped to her feet and he pulled her back with a firm hand.

Malphas sighed. "You know, I'd heard about your annoying tendency to have horrible timing, but this is just ridiculous."

"Then you've probably heard about our annoying tendency to stick this knife into scum like you," Dean said, holding up his own knife.

"Yes, unfortunately." Malphas eyed them. "This isn't the end, I assure you."

And in the blink of an eye, he was gone.

"Bastard," Dean muttered. "Should've known he'd be a coward."

"Nel, are you okay?" Sam asked, gripping her shoulder. "Are you hurt?"

She didn't answer at first, still staring at where Malphas had vanished. "Where… where did he go?" she said, feeling lightheaded.

"Demons like to teleport," Dean said, steering her away from her bedroom. "Let's go, before he decides to come back with some friends from Hell."

"Demon," Nel said, her head spinning. "But why did he want to kill me?" She stopped dead in her tracks. "Gram and Grandpa!" She took the stairs three at a time, running down to the living room where they were tied up and fallen against the wall.

"Are you okay?" she asked, trembling slightly as she approached them. Her grandmother's lip was split, and her grandfather was holding his leg, but they were okay. She gently pulled the duct tape from their faces as Sam and Dean joined her in the living room.

"Who are you?" her grandfather asked, looking at Sam and Dean with wariness. "Nel, stay back-"

"They won't hurt us," Nel assured them. She held up the knife. "I think I have to cut through the rope. I'll be careful."

"Let me," Sam said quickly, holding up his own knife. He gave Nel a sheepish look as he bent by her grandparents to cut through their ropes. "I've had plenty of experience with this."

"Are the police coming?" her grandmother asked, leaning heavily on Nel as she stood up. "And who _was _that man?"

"He was-" she began, but Dean interrupted her.

"A burglar. There's been a lot of reported break-ins in the neighborhood recently," he said, and nodded to Sam. "Don't worry about him now, ma'am, we'll find him."

"But… he pushed us back. _Without even touching us._**"**

"Oh." Dean glanced surreptitiously at Sam, so quickly that the moment passed in less than a second, but Nel noticed. "He's also, uh, drugged the water supply. You might have experienced minor hallucinations, ma'am."

"Dear God," her grandmother said weakly, her hands rising to her mouth.

"Do you mind if we talk to your granddaughter for a minute?" Sam asked. "We'd like to ask her a few questions"

Her grandparents looked to her. "Nel?" her grandpa said tentatively. "Are you alright with it?"

"Yeah. I'm fine," she said, and went with them outside.

As soon as the front door closed, Dean pulled out his keys and jangled them in his hand. "We've got to get out of here."

Nel opened her mouth, bewildered. "What? What do you mean?"

"That demon's not going to just leave peacefully," Sam said. "He's going to come back. And when he does, you're going to be in danger."

Nel's stomach was cartwheeling. "So I have to just leave?"

"Temporarily," Dean added. "Just until we kill the son of a bitch. Then you can go back to living with your grandparents."

Something wasn't right. "But…" She narrowed her eyes at them. "The demon called me the youngest Winchester. Were you lying, when I asked who your father was?"

They exchanged a look again, the same one from inside the house only five minutes ago. It was a look of shared insight, of a bond that clearly went deeper than what they might show on the surface.

"Nel, our dad was John Winchester." Sam averted his eyes as he spoke. "I'm sorry we didn't tell you the truth earlier. We didn't want to get you involved in this life, but I guess that's been messed up now." He attempted a smile.

_I have brothers. _

It didn't feel quite processed in her head.

_I, Anneliese Scott, have two brothers. Two brothers that kill monsters and are taller than skyscrapers._

"Nel? You okay?" Sam looked at her anxiously. A grin broke across Nel's lips despite the situation.

"I feel like a fantasy book character," she said, spinning around with her hands on her head. "Two tough-guy heroes show up on my doorstep and it turns out we're long-lost siblings. Doesn't that sound like an awesome book plot?" She looked between them eagerly.

"Great," Dean said, stowing his hands in his pockets. "I knew you'd be like this."

"Like what?"

He waved a hand at her, disgruntled. "All… teenage-girl-ish."

"You're _not _excited? I mean, I didn't want to get my hopes up, but then I did and it was so disappointing, but you're actually… you're Sam and Dean Winchester, then." The names brought another smile to her face. "Wow."

"Yeah, whatever. Get some clothing and your toothbrush. Pack light," Dean said.

"Okay." Nel opened the front door and came to a halt. "What about my grandpa and gram? Are they coming?"

"I just texted Jody," Sam said, and then added to Nel, "A friend of ours. She'll keep an eye on your grandparents. They'll be safe."

Dean pointed at the house. "Move it. We can do the girly talk in the car."

Obediently Nel dashed into the house and threw several items into a backpack. Clothing, toothbrush, contacts, her white blankie that she'd had since a baby, and her book. She had a horrible feeling that she was going to forget something, but something about Dean's tone was making her panic at how much time she was taking, so she raced back down the stairs.

"Grandpa? Gram?" She cautiously entered the living room. "They want me to go with them. To, uh, the station, I think?"

_I'm so very, very, very bad at lying. _

"And I'm not sure how long," she continued. "But I guess they want me to be safe until this man is caught."

Her grandfather raised his eyebrows. "They want you to stay at the station? Is there something I'm missing here?"

"No," Nel said, her voice an octave up. "They said… they said…" She fumbled for words.

"She needs to go to a juvenile health center. It's nothing to worry about," Sam said, coming into the house. Nel exhaled with relief.

"Juvenile health center?" Her grandmother looked appalled. "Nel, you're not - sweetheart, you haven't been…" Her voice lowered to a whisper. "Doing _drugs_, have you?"

"What? No!" Nel said, shaking her head vigorously.

"The water. The burglar, he's been poisoning the water supply. It's particularly harmful for minors," Sam said, gripping Nel's shoulder. "You'll hear from Officer Mills soon. She'll explain everything."

Her grandparents were looking at her with fear, but fortunately, they'd always been gullible. "Are you okay with this, Nel?"

"I'm fine," Nel assured them. "Really."

It took only ten more minutes to convince them that she just needed a week or so under medical care because of the "poisoned water", and then Nel was following Sam and Dean into their antique Chevy that was parked outside. She climbed into the backseat of the car, and they pulled away just as the lights from the cops arriving flashed down the street. _Don't get in a car with strangers_, a soft voice whispered in the back of her mind - but it was okay, it was her brothers, she reasoned. They were family.

* * *

"I lied to my grandparents." Nel sat, frozen, in the backseat. "They're going to call this so-called juvenile health center and figure it out so easily. I'm such a terrible granddaughter." She buried her face in her hands. "How are they going to forgive me when return home in a little bit and they know that I wasn't at a health center?"

"They will," Sam promised her. "I'll ask a favor from a friend. He'll take care of everything. They'll believe you, and they won't question where you were this week."

"How do you know that?"  
**"**Cas knows what he's doing," was all Dean said, so Nel let it drop, guilt still stabbing her chest. She changed the subject, determined to not think about what her grandparents were likely thinking of her. "So, you go around the country and just kill anything that needs killing?" Nel asked.

"Pretty much. We've been hunting since we were little. Your dad - _our _dad - he raised us on the road," Sam said.

_I really do have superheroes for brothers_. Nel had hung onto every word, desperate not only to learn about these two men who had the same blood as her, but also because they were fascinating. Everything about them, from their worn flannels to their car that Dean clearly had a strange protectiveness of, was intriguing.

"You name a monster, we've probably killed it," Dean said, lazily spinning the wheel to the right to take an exit off the highway.

"Vampires?" Nel asked, leaning forward enthusiastically.

"Decapitated hundreds."

"Zombies?"

"Killed them."

"Werewolves?"

"Like I said, we've killed most anything," Dean said.

As much as she felt wrong for being in awe - after all, if there were vampires out there, shouldn't she be terrified? - it was impossible to not be impressed. She sifted through the names of monsters that she'd heard of.

"What about Frankenstein's monster?" she asked.

"Well, no, but he's fictional," Sam said. "Nel, you know that we're telling you all of this, but… I wouldn't repeat it to anyone else. Not if you don't want to be locked up in a straitjacket."

"I won't," Nel said solemnly. She hesitated. "What's the scariest thing you've ever killed?"

"What's the scariest thing we've ever killed?" Dean echoed her question as though he'd never thought of it before.

"Yeah. What's the most nightmarish creature you've… hunted?"  
Sam answered immediately. "Killer clown." He turned to his brother. "Dude, you'd better not say that you're not afraid of anything."

"Nothing _scares _me. I just get caught off guard sometimes."

"I seem to remember a time you screamed because of a cat."

"Because I had freakin' ghost sickness!" Dean said indignantly. "That doesn't count!"

"What about planes? Scary airplanes?" Sam said, glancing back at Nel and grinning at her. "Dean's terrified of planes."

"Shut up."

"That makes sense," Nel said, and Dean cast her a glare. "I mean, I was wondering why you guys drive around the country, but it makes sense, if you don't like airplanes."

"Well, stop asking about monsters," Dean said, his tone suddenly sharp. "This is temporary - the minute we kill that demon, we're dropping you back off in Boulder. The less you know, the better."

"Oh. Okay." Nel leaned back against the seat, hugging herself.

The car fell into an awkward silence, aside from the hum of the engine.

* * *

"This is it."

Nel lifted her head; she'd been leaning against the window for the past hour watching the flat landscape pass by. "This is where you live?"

"Home sweet home," Sam said, getting out of the car.

"It looks like a hobbit house." Nel stepped out and stretched. "Okay, I already thought that you guys were practically out of a fantasy book, but this is beyond cool. It's like we're in Middle Earth."

"Try horror," Dean corrected. "Get your stuff."

The inside of Sam and Dean's home - they called it a bunker - was much more massive than Nel had anticipated. The entrance had a tall staircase that led down into a place that was more a military base than a house, with books lining the walls and several tables going down the middle.

"I'll go set up a room for you," Sam said, taking her bag for her and hurrying down the hall. Nel entered what she supposed was their living room and brushed the table with her hand. Carved into it were the initials SW and DW, and a strange sense that she was intruding suddenly made her cheeks feel warm. Dean watched her carefully, as though she were about to steal something.

"This is incredible," she said, going over to the shelf to look at a sword that was propped on top. "You guys own this place?"

"Don't touch that," Dean ordered. "You'll get a friggin' cut or something and then your grandparents will sue us."

"Even if I was dumb enough to touch the edge, my grandparents would have no idea how to go about suing," Nel said, blushing slightly and removing her hand nonetheless. "Sorry. I don't mean to be so rude. I'm just… on edge, I guess. When I woke up this morning I didn't know demons were a thing."

"Believe me, kid, I know what that's like," Dean said, and suddenly Nel had the eerie feeling that he had much, much more to him than his tough exterior. For a brief moment, she thought he was going to say more, but then he turned away.

"I guess I can get takeout or something," he said, glancing at his watch. "You like pizza?"

"I was wondering what you guys do for food," Nel said, grinning. "I'm fine with that. I'm guessing neither of you cook much?"

"Nope. Why use a knife to cut up a vegetable when you can use it to stab a monster?" he said flippantly.

"Cooking is fun," Nel said, and then hesitated. "Do you want me to make dinner or something? I mean, I'm a guest here, using up your money and resources and time... and I don't want to be a burden."

"Believe me, I've had enough takeout pizza to last a lifetime." Dean regarded her with his serious green eyes. "Go for it. I don't care. Hopefully you won't have to stay here longer than a week."

The words stung. Nel knew he must mean well - right? - but it was still a slap to the face. "Yeah, hopefully," she agreed.

Sam came back into the room. "Want me to show you to your room?" he asked, and Nel followed quickly.

The bunker was like a maze. The halls reminded her of a hospital; long, straight, and dimly lit. Sam pushed open a door on the left that revealed a small bedroom with a twin bed. He'd turned on the lamp, so it was aglow with cozy yellow lighting when she walked in.

"This is perfect," Nel said. "Thanks so much, Sam."

Sam dug his hands into his pockets and looked around the room awkwardly. "It's a bit barren, but it'll do. I put an extra blanket at the foot of the bed, but let me know if you get cold, and I can grab more. Is there, uh, anything else that you'll need?"

"No, this is more than enough." Nel sat down on the bed. "I told Dean I could make dinner, since you guys are letting me stay here for a bit. Is there anything you'd like?"

"You cook?" Sam sounded surprised.

"Yeah. A bit. It's relaxing," Nel said, shrugging slightly.

"Sorry. Just… a Winchester, cooking." Sam laughed. "It's not something that I usually get to see."

The fact that he'd called her a Winchester was enough to make her feel as though she were glowing. "So, what do you want?"

"What can you make with an opened box of linguini, two eggs, and leftover pepperoni pizza?" Sam asked, grinning.

"I'll take that as a challenge," she said, standing back up and heading towards the door. She paused at the frame. "Um, I don't know where the kitchen is."

"I'll show you." Sam started to lead her down the hallway. "And, Nel?"

"Yeah?"

"Welcome to the family," he said, and Nel didn't think her heart had ever swelled more.

**A/N: **So… yesterday I got news that Jared can't make it to the con this weekend. As much as I'll miss him, I'm really glad that he's taking time for his own wellbeing. I did buy photo ops with him fifteen months ago so it was a bit of a shock to hear that he won't be there, but I'm just hoping that he's okay.

Just want to send some love to the SPN family, and hope you all have a Happy Halloween!


	5. Headlines and Bloodlines

So sorry for the delay with this chapter. It took a while to write, but a lot happens in this chapter, so hopefully that makes up for it!

Also, by the way - 15x04 "Atomic Monsters" was an OUTSTANDING episode. I'm so proud of Jensen - who else can sing, act, AND direct? He's amazing! Both him and Jared are doing an incredible job this season and I'm so excited to see what the rest of the season will bring.

* * *

"You're serving us pizza lasagna?" Dean eyed the steaming dish in front of him as Nel slid it onto the table.

"Oh," Nel said, looking anxiously at the food. "I mean, there wasn't much in the fridge, so I just thought I'd experiment a bit… if you don't like it, that's fine, I can try to make something else…" She suddenly despised herself for being adventurous with the little ingredients Sam and Dean had in the bunker. She'd been limited to leftover pizza, a couple of eggs, and several other measly ingredients, and the only food that she could think of was a casserole. It was sloppy looking, filled with noodles, pepperoni, and an egg and cheese compote, but she'd hoped that it would taste good.  
**"**Nel, you didn't even have to make anything for us," Sam said, casting a look at Dean. "Besides, it smells good. Like pizza on steroids." He spooned out a large amount onto his own plate and slid it over to Dean, who sniffed it once and then dumped some onto his plate as well. Nel put a smaller portion on her own plate and sat down uncomfortably across from the brothers.

_Not 'the brothers'_, she reminded herself. _My brothers. _

They didn't really look like her. She wasn't short, but she wasn't tall, either; they, on the other hand, towered over her. She had blue eyes, they didn't. Her hair was puffy, curly, and difficult, theirs was casually neat. She supposed it was the same color - light brown.

And, clearly, they had an affinity for adrenaline and dangerous hobbies. She preferred to stay home and read.

"Hey, Nel, this is really good," Sam said, taking another bite. "What's the filling? It tastes amazing."

Nel blushed again. _Will I ever stop blushing? _**"**I blended a few eggs with cheese and some herbs."

Dean frowned. "We had herbs in the cupboard?"

"Yeah." Sam cleared his throat. "Remember that blood boiling spell we had to use on a warlock a few months ago? It needed some herbs."

"Really?" Nel grinned. "The only reason you have herbs in your pantry is because you needed to kill something?"

"Like I said, Winchesters aren't usually Gordon Ramsays," Sam said, dishing more of the casserole on his plate. "Dean, remember when we tried baking Dad a cake for his birthday once?"

Dean's mouth curved into a smile. "Yeah. It was a disaster. It didn't help that we were limited to the mediocre kitchen in the motel."

"I was probably eight and Dean was twelve," Sam explained to Nel. "We were going to make a carrot cake for his birthday, because it was his favorite kind."

_My favorite type of cake is carrot cake. _The realization made Nel feel like she was glowing, because for some strange reason knowing that she and her dad liked the same cake made her feel elated, but she didn't dare say anything.

"It's a long story, but it ended with a cake half burnt on one side, with salt instead of sugar, and only enough frosting to cover a quarter of the surface," Sam said. "We never baked again."

"Did he like the effort, at least?" Nel asked.

Dean snorted. "The old man didn't even like _good _birthday cakes. He took one look at it and told us that we should've spent the money on ammunition or something else instead." He grinned fondly. "That was Dad, alright. Probably not one of his favorite birthdays, but from then on we knew to buy him weapons instead of frilly cakes."

With that sentence, Nel's stomach felt like it had plummeted into her shoes. She had always known that she was never close with her dad while he was alive, but now, hearing Sam and Dean talk about him… they had been close. Really close. The realization felt like an electric shock and goosebumps crawled up her arms. Not only had they grown up with her dad, but Sam and Dean had been close with each other, too. The feeling that she was an intruder heightened, and she suddenly wanted nothing more than to be out of that kitchen, away from Sam and Dean, where she was encroaching on their home, food, and bond.

"Well, I don't think you poisoned us," Dean said once he had finished eating. Nel mustered a smile, but it felt so fake that she could have taped a plastic smile over her face and it would have appeared more real.

"I'm glad you liked it," she said robotically, carrying her plate to the sink and cleaning it off. "Well, I guess I'm going to go to bed."

"It's only seven," Sam said, checking his watch. "If you want, I could show you around the bunker."

"No, that's okay. I'll let you guys… do your thing," Nel said, and she exited the kitchen before they could say anything else.

_Don't cry. _She closed her bedroom door, willing her eyes to stay dry, and forcing the lump in her throat back down. Her nerves were crawling with an unwelcome combination of homesickness and obtrusion.

"It's temporary," she reminded herself out loud. She wasn't sure if it helped. She'd be back home with her grandparents shortly, and that was a good thing… right? After all, this was Sam and Dean's home, and she was messing up their way of life and getting in the way of the brotherly bond that they so obviously had.

She flopped down onto her bed and stared at the ceiling. It was a stained white, just like the walls. The only objects in the bedroom were the bed, the dresser, and the nightstand with a lamp on it. It was certainly enough, but it made her miss her own bedroom, back in Boulder. Maybe it was the setting sun outside, or the feeling that she was a stranger with her siblings, but everything just felt _wrong_.

* * *

Morning arrived so quickly that Nel was surprised to open her eyes and see the sunrise through her slit of a window near the top of the wall.

It was 6:07 in the morning. She had no idea if Sam and Dean were early or late risers, but she didn't like sleeping in, so she wandered out of her bedroom. The kitchen was empty, as well as the main entrance, so she settled down in a chair by one of the bookshelves and browsed the myriad of old, thick books.

Most of them dealt with the supernatural, which didn't surprise her. Some of them were dark - one was called _Blood Alchemy to Summon the Unholy_, and she didn't dare even touch it. Others were duller, like the book with a nearly five-inch binding labeled _Comprehensive Men of Letters Archive Records_. Finally she settled on a smaller, marmalade orange book with a canvas cover, called _An Overview of Ghouls_.

She skimmed to the chapter called "Killing a Ghoul". There were gruesome images inside, of humanoid creatures hissing at something just out of the image, an axe in their skull or their head mostly severed from their neck.

_To kill a ghoul, one must completely and utterly mutilate its head. Otherwise, there is the risk of the ghoul healing and rising once more to bring chaos. Notice Image D, in which the head is not substantially decapitated; the ghoul will be capable of returning. _

Come to find out, ghouls looked exactly like humans. Nel imagined facing a ghoul, and bashing in the head of someone that resembled a human. She doubted that she would be able to muster the courage.

"Hey. You're up."

Sam entered the library, wiping sweat from his forehead.

"Yeah, I got up a half an hour ago. Were you on a run or something?"

Sam nodded. "Looped around the bunker a couple of times. What are you reading?"

Nel flipped the cover of the book up to show him. "Um, some creepy how-to on killing ghouls." She closed the book and put it back where she'd pulled it off of the shelf. "Have you ever killed a ghoul?"

"Yeah. They're one of my least favorites," Sam said, smiling briefly. "Dean and I don't exactly have a good track record with them."

"Oh." She didn't press why; if Sam wanted to divulge, then he would on his own. "So… what's next? Finding Malphas and killing him?"

"Yeah. I'll go through the archives on demons and see if I can find anything about him," Sam said. He began to exit the room but paused on his way out. "Uh, there's some fruit in the kitchen, coffee, and a couple of eggs, depending on what you want for breakfast. I don't think we have any bread."

"That's okay. Fruit is fine," Nel said, glad for the opportunity to have something to do. "When does Dean wake up?"

"Now," came a groggy voice from behind her. She turned around to see Dean, in a bathrobe with a steaming mug of coffee, come into the room.

"I'm going to get breakfast," she said quickly, and left the room.

* * *

"Did I say something?" Dean said once Nel was out of earshot. "She left quickly."

Sam gave him a reproachful look. "You haven't been exactly Mr. Hospitality, Dean. She probably doesn't want to annoy you."

"Well, if she's expecting to be greeted with a hug and flowers in the morning, then she's going to be disappointed," Dean said, taking a sip of his coffee. Sam was still giving him the same look and he knew that he was being a bit unfair to Nel, but still, it wouldn't kill her. She could use a bit of toughening, he reasoned. And, of course, it was easier to act gruff around her than it was to try to welcome her with open arms. She'd be leaving as soon as they killed Malphas, anyway.

"At least try? Maybe say something nice, or act like you're even slightly glad to have a sister?" Sam said. Dean ignored him.

"We should try the records room first," he said. "There's a ton of files on demons in there. If there's nothing, then we can try calling Cas again, but…" He shrugged. "I haven't heard from his feathery ass since he bailed back in Oregon."

"Something must be going on in Heaven," Sam said. "He'll be back soon enough." He glanced at his watch. "Might as well get started, then."

"Dammit." Dean stretched. "How about you do the nerdy labor and then I'll do the killing?"

"Nope. We're in this together," Sam said. "I don't know if Nel would want to research, but we should probably ask her if she wants to join in…" He looked uneasily at the doorway as though she were standing there.

"She's a kid," Dean said, wrinkling his nose. "She'll slow us down."

"She won't slow us down. I'm going to ask her," Sam said, and he left the library.

_Great. What a dream team we make. _

Dean drained his coffee and stared at the bottom of his cup. Research and kids were irritating on their own, but together, it was a promise for a long day.

* * *

Nel was making her bed when Sam knocked twice on her open door before poking his head in.

"Hey. We're going to start research. Want to join in?" he asked.

Alarms felt like they were going off in her head. Of course, she would love nothing more than to do research about a demon - it sounded _much _more beguiling than her lab report on enzymes - but something was holding her back.

It was their rapport. Sam and Dean's too-obvious bond, the sentences that they spoke to one another with a simple glance between them, the life that they had shared with their dad on the road. She was the third wheel, and there was no denying it.

"I'm okay," she said finally, and gestured half-heartedly at her laptop, which was sticking out of her hastily packed duffel bag. "I have homework."

"Homework?" Sam repeated, and then he started to smile. "Even though you probably won't be in school tomorrow, you're getting your homework done?"

"Um… yeah," Nel said, shifting uncomfortably and looking at her feet.

"That's good to know that I'm not the only one in the family then," Sam said, grinning at her. "Growing up, Dean and Dad never understood why I would sideline myself intentionally to do homework during a hunt. But I guess it must have been in Dad's genes somewhere, if you're into that too."

Nel's heart lifted slightly at the mention of her dad. "Maybe I'll join you in a bit," she offered. "But I have a lab report to finish. And I have to email all my teachers asking for what I'm missing. It won't be too bad, though, because my last day of school is Tuesday, anyway. I doubt there'll be much."

"Alright." Sam slapped the doorway twice. "Holler if you need anything."

And with that, he was gone.

Nel took a deep breath and opened up her laptop. With any luck, Sam and Dean would find the demon quickly, because the sooner she was gone, the sooner they could go back to their normal routine without her.

Her lab report took an hour to finish. To her relief, two of her teachers had already responded to her email asking what she would be missing, and they had sent along the in-class assignment in class. No homework, they said, since school was ending on Tuesday. It gave Nel something to work on, and it helped take her mind off of Sam and Dean.

Her phone was lighting up more frequently than it ever had, with messages from friends asking if she was okay. Even her great uncle, who lived in Boulder but Nel hadn't seen in years because he had a rocky relationship with her grandfather, had texted her asking about her "water poisoning". The story had spread, then, she realized with a strange combination of exhilaration and guilt.

She had just closed her laptop, having submitted an online quiz that her world religions teacher had sent to her, when rapid footsteps came down the hall. She stood up quickly, just as Sam appeared in her doorway again.

"You find anything?" she asked.

"Yeah, actually. Want to come see his file?" Sam asked. She nodded and followed him out of her bedroom.

The bunker went deeper and father than Nel had imagined. Sam led her down the hallway, and for a moment she thought he was leading her back through the kitchen, but instead he rounded left through a closed door and they took a set of stairs down. From there, they went left, right, and right, before coming to an open door. Inside were dozens of filing cabinets and bookshelves, and sitting at a table in the center under a dim lamp was Dean.

"He's definitely our guy," Dean said without looking up. "Malphas - a demon known for his reputation to do freelance killing, but he's not a mass murdering dick, either. He kills in his own self-interest, but otherwise he doesn't like to 'get his hands dirty'." Dean slapped the file down on the table.

"I guess Malphas was once an angel," Sam told Nel. "He fell from Heaven and became human after losing his grace. Once he died, he went to Hell and became a demon after a hundred years of torture."

"An angel," Nel echoed. "He fell from Heaven? Like Lucifer?"

"Yeah, except this guy Malphas didn't get his grace back, and just became a normal demon bastard instead," Sam said slowly. "So it doesn't sound like he has any special mojo, then."

"Where do we find him?" Nel asked.

Dean gave her a steely look. "First, there's no 'we' that's finding him. Sam and I will do it. Like I said earlier, you're not dying while we're babysitting you. And second…" He wordlessly twisted the file around to show Sam.

"A summoning spell," Sam said. "Okay." He traced his finger along the file. "It doesn't look too difficult… a few drops of blood, light of the thirteenth hour, milkweed, the ground bone of a cat, and billing's root. Add some Latin and fire, and it looks like he should be summoned."

"How are you going to get the last two ingredients?" Nel asked. _They had better not be planning on killing a cat._

"The bunker has an ingredient cabinet, and I think there's billing's root in there," Sam said. "The bone will be harder, but all it takes is a fake FBI ID to get into a veterinary office." He saw the horrified look on her face and backpedaled. "Not from a live cat. We'll go into the morgue. They have dead pets in there, being held before they get cremated. Don't worry."

Nel relaxed slightly. "Okay," she said, peering at the file. "You need light from the thirteenth hour? So by one this afternoon you'll be able to kill Malphas?"

"We should be," Sam said. "As long as we can get the ingredients in time, we're good to go. We might be able to bring you home tomorrow, if everything goes smoothly."

Nel wasn't sure whether she was relieved or disappointed to hear him say that. After all this time, and all of the excitement regarding the fact that she had two brothers, to just _go home _after such a brief time with them felt wrong.

_I don't belong here, though_, she reminded herself, and forced a smile on her face. "Awesome. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I don't think so. You good on your own if Dean and I head out to get this done?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Alright." Sam stood up and straightened the file. "Ready, Dean?"

Dean rubbed his hands together. "Let's do this. I want to stab Malphas in his stupid chest and twist until blood comes-" He paused, looking sideways at Nel. "Damn. I keep forgetting there's a kid around."

"I'm not a kid," Nel said, and as an afterthought, she added, "And I've watched and read Game of Thrones, so I'm not opposed to violence either."

Dean's face quickly turned to disbelief. "You think that you can equate Game of Thrones to seeing someone get killed? You got a lot to learn, kid." He added "kid" at the end with emphasis on the word.  
Mortification rushed into Nel's face. "No, I just meant - that's not what I was saying, I just… I-"

"Dean, cut it out," Sam said. "Nel, I get what you mean. Don't let Dean get to you. He's just being a jerk." He cast a pointed look at his brother.

Nel gripped herself tightly. "Sorry. He's right. That was a stupid comparison."

There was an awkward silence. Nel wanted nothing more than to run back to her bedroom, but she forced herself to keep her feet rooted to the ground.

"Okay," Sam said finally. "Dean and I will get ready, then we'll head out. Once Malphas is dead, we'll come back and pick you up, to bring you back to Boulder."

"Okay," Nel said meekly. "That sounds good." She took it as a dismissal and backed out of the room.

* * *

Sam went back to Nel's room once more to let her know that he and Dean were taking off, but otherwise he didn't see her again that afternoon. She stayed in her bedroom, and each time he talked to her, she would get nervous and answer timidly.

"You know why she's scared to be around us," Sam said to Dean once they had left the vet's clinic with the bone of a recently deceased cat in a plastic baggie. It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

"Yep. And I don't regret anything I've said," Dean said. "This is good for her. If we pretended she was safe, and that we were going to be like apple pie older brothers - playing football, celebrating Easter, all that crap - then we'd just be lying to her. Better for her to know the truth immediately."

"What, that she has older brothers that terrify her?"

"Exactly." Dean's tone signalled the end of the conversation.

Sam checked his watch. "Dean, it's twenty-two minutes to noon. We should get ready. Light of the thirteenth hour is coming."

"Where we doin' this?" Dean asked, spinning the wheel to pull the Impala over. "Out here?"  
**"**Yeah. Not many people come down this road. It should stay empty." Sam got out of the car and took the spray paint out from the back, as well as the cat bone in the bag. He tossed the spray paint to Dean, who began to paint the devil's trap onto the middle of the road. Sam placed the bag with the cat bone on the ground and picked up a nearby rock. "Ground entirely, right? To dust?"

"That's what the file said," Dean said, pausing with the paint to watch with interest. Sam raised the rock and brought it down on the bone several times. It chipped satisfactorily. After several more poundings, it began to get ground into a dustier powder. Dean held out a bowl that he'd retrieved from the trunk. Sam shook the powder into the bowl, threw in the billing's root, the milkweed, and lifted his knife.

"It didn't specify the amount of blood," he said, holding the blade above his hand. "What do you think? A few drops, or more?"

"Try a few drops. We'll add more if Malphas doesn't show."

"Okay. Be ready with the Latin." Sam grimaced as he cut his hand open. He squeezed his hand into a fist and a few drops of scarlet blood dripped onto the leaf of the milkweed.

"_Hoc age quod praecipio tibi venire. Et auribus percipite verba mea_," Dean read aloud, holding the file open. He lit the match and tossed it into the bowl. Sam averted his eyes as the bowl flashed white, and suddenly there was a figure standing in the middle of the devil's trap.

Malphas stood stock still, staring at them with mingled disgust and surprise. He watched them silently for a full ten seconds before he spoke. "You know, everyone in Hell always says one thing about you two."

"And what's that?" Dean said, lifting his knife. "That we always win?"

"Close." Malphas dug his hands into his pockets. "They say to never underestimate you two. That it's dangerous to screw around with you." He laughed; it was empty and devoid of humor. "I thought I was smarter. I was camping out in a tundra in Nunavut. Never even crossed my mind that there might be a damn record on how to summon me."

"Well, as far as demon's go, at least you're humbler than most," Dean said. "But if you've heard a few stories about us, then you know what happens next."  
**"**You kill me," Malphas said without interest. "I figured. That's why I took a precaution, just in case."

"Precaution?" Sam said. He looked to Dean, who was staring stonily at the demon. "What do you mean?"  
Malphas shrugged. "Simple little blood insurance spell. You murder me, and the same thing happens to your little sister's beloved grandparents."

"Or maybe you're bluffing because you want to save your own ass," Dean suggested lightly. "How do you want it? Knife in the heart, or in the neck? I'm not picky."

Malphas raised his eyebrows. "You think I'm kidding?"

"I've never heard of a blood insurance spell," Sam said. "So the odds aren't looking to be in your favor right now."

"Fine. Don't believe me." Malphas lifted his arms. "Stab me in the heart. You'll find out pretty soon that old Grandma and Grandpa Scott have died of an eerily similar wound."

Sam didn't like his tone. He liked it even less when monsters played mind games; most of the time, they lied.

_Most of the time. Not all the time. _

Sam pulled Dean away. "What if he's telling the truth?"

"Go on, have your family discussion. I'll just wait here," Malphas called from behind them. Sam ignored him.

"I mean, I've never heard of a spell like that, but it's definitely possible," Sam continued. "Maybe we should just exorcise him, just in case."

Dean's face was set. "We can't do that. And you know it. Exorcising him will put him in Hell for a bit, but then what? We have a pissed off demon on our tail? On Nel's tail, too? We can't risk that."

"We can't risk _murdering _Nel's grandparents, either," Sam argued. "Besides, if we exorcise him, there's the possibility that he stays in Hell for years. Things could change by then."

"He's a demon, Sam. We don't make exceptions."

"Why not? Look - if he's telling the truth, I mean, we might as well just be tying up her grandparents and stabbing them in the chests ourselves." The thought sent chills up Sam's spine. "They're innocent."

"So are thousands of other people. And you know what happens? They die. This has to be one of those other times." Dean pulled away from Sam.

"Dean, stop." Sam grabbed his arm again. "We… we can't kill him." He drew in a breath. "What if, the next morning, we hear on the news that an older couple living in Boulder, Colorado, were found mysteriously murdered with no sign of who killed them? That'll be on us, Dean." He changed his tone. "You need to trust me on this. Please. We can't kill him."

"You said yourself that you've never heard of a blood insurance spell."

"Yeah, and there's a lot of things that we haven't heard about that end up being real. That's basically the story of our lives, Dean." Sam lowered his hand. "I'm just asking that we exorcise him. And if he comes back, then we kill him."

Dean considered him. "Fine." He thrust the knife into Sam's hands. "But if we get murdered because Malphas decides to come back to the land of the living and stick a bullet in us, I'm haunting your ass."

"Come to a decision?" Malphas asked lazily when they came back. "Let me guess. You're going to kill me. Nice job, Winchesters - you just killed little Nel's grandparents."

Sam didn't answer him. "_Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus,_**" **he began to recite, and steam rose from Malphas's skin.

"Idiots," Malphas said, and he began to laugh again - but this time, it wasn't devoid of humor. There was mirth, twisted amusement at something that made Sam want to stop, but he didn't let it deter him.** "**_...omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo, draco maledicte. Ecclesiam tuam securi tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos_."

He said the last words with finality, and Malphas's mouth opened wide. Black smoke came unfurling from him, tearing upwards and then plummeting down into the earth.

"Enjoy Hell, asshole," Dean said as the last of the smoke vanished. Sam approached the man, who had fallen since the smoke had left him. He lifted the man's wrist, hoping for that familiar sensation of a heart pumping, but there was nothing. He shook his head to Dean.

"Already dead," he said. "There's nothing we can do."

"Poor bastard." Dean went to the trunk to get the salt and oil. "Let's light him up."

"Dean," Sam said hesitantly. "The way he was laughing… it felt wrong. I don't know, I just think that he knows something that we don't."

"They all do that," Dean said, coming back and lighting a match.

"It felt different." Sam couldn't put it into words. "I feel like we should check on her grandparents, just in case."

"Whoa. No way. I let you exorcise Malphas, but we're not doing any more than that," Dean said. "Let's get back to the bunker, take Nel home, and finally put this whole thing behind us."

"Yeah," Sam said after a moment. "Alright."

* * *

The ride to Boulder was painfully quiet, even with Dean's music in the background. Nel couldn't bring herself to start any conversations; even if she could have thought of something interesting to say, she didn't want to intrude on Sam and Dean any more than she already had. She'd already intruded enough; Dean had made that clear.

They were going to get back to Boulder at about nine that night. Nel had packed up her things, after her brief one night stay in the bunker. As much as she couldn't wait to see her grandparents again, it was bittersweet having to say goodbye to the tunnels and library, because she'd probably never see it again. Assuming Dean got his way, since he was the older brother, she wouldn't see them again, either. Nel wasn't exactly a touchy-feely person, but she wasn't an idiot, either, and it was obvious he didn't like her.

_I'm being stupid_, she told herself. It wasn't Dean's job to like her. That was the way the world worked; some people liked you, some people didn't. Sam liked her enough, that much she was sure of. Just because she wasn't able to establish an immediate bond with her older brother didn't mean it was the end of the world. After all, her great uncle never got along with her grandfather, and they were siblings. That was life.

Malphas was gone, Sam had told her. They had exorcised him, which wasn't the same as killing, but it should be enough. His tone told her that he wasn't exactly sure, and that didn't reassure her, but she didn't question him. As long as Malphas was gone, she was satisfied.

The silence was broken just as the sun was setting behind the long line of trees over the horizon.

"So, you won't end up missing any school," Sam said. "You'll be back in time for Monday morning."

"Yeah," Nel said, thinking of the hallways, her locker, the cafeteria, her friends… now that she knew about everything else - demons, witches, spells, vampires - it seemed strange to return to normal again like nothing had happened. "My teachers won't be expecting me, since I already emailed them letting them know that I won't be there."

"Then just skip," Dean said. Nel glanced at him, surprised.

"I can't skip," she said, shaking her head. "I have too much work to do."

"You were going to miss school anyway. Take a day off," he said. "It won't kill you."

"Yeah, but…" Nel shook her head again because she wasn't sure what else to do. "It would just stress me out. Besides, it'll help me get back into the routine. It'll help things go back to normal."

Sam pointed ahead. "We're coming up to a diner. Want to stop?"

Dean didn't say anything but pulled into the dirt parking lot of Nancy's Diner. It was one of those small places that made Nel wonder how their business even stayed afloat - in the middle of nowhere, with only a few truckers parked there. The neon sign had a light out on the "r" so that it read Nancy's Dine, and the OPEN sign on the door was flickering as well.

"I hope you weren't expecting a five star restaurant," Dean said as he got out of the car.

"This looks cute," Nel said, and she meant it. Despite the lack of business it was a little oddly shaped building with a smoking chimney and glass windows winding around the entire front.

The inside smelled strongly of meat and coffee. They sat down in a small booth, Nel on one side and Sam and Dean on the other side. There was only one waiter and he came to them as soon as they entered, silently handing them greasy menus and filling several plastic cups with water.

"You guys are on the road a lot, right?" Nel said to avoid the silence that she knew would ensue if she didn't say anything. "So you must have seen a lot of small country diners?"

"That's what we live off of," Sam confirmed. He paused. "Did, uh… when you were with Dad, when you were little, did Dad ever cook for you?"

"Well, he was barely ever around. I only have a few memories of him," Nel said. "I don't think so. But, now that you mention it… I think that he took me in his car once. Was it that car?" She nodded at the window where the Impala was parked.

"Yes," Dean said quickly, a faintly disgruntled look on his face. "He let you ride in it?"

"Just once, I think. Like I said, I barely remember," Nel said, and because the look on Dean's face was scaring her, she changed the subject. "My mom didn't talk about him much either, but I guess he cooked for her once. Grilled hamburgers or something."

Sam looked as though he were about to answer but then the waiter came over.

"What do you want?" he said flippantly, opening his notebook roughly.

"I'll have a burger. With bacon on it, if you've got it," Dean said.

"How do you want that cooked?"

"Medium, thanks." He handed the menu to the waiter. Sam ordered a Greek salad, which Nel had originally been planning on ordering. Unexplainable anxiety made her quickly change her mind so that Sam wouldn't think she was copying him and she ordered a garden salad, glancing at the price just before the menu was taken away.

"Here," she said, handing Sam seven dollars. "For the salad."

But Sam shook his head. "You can keep that. You made us dinner last night, so I think we're even."

"Are you sure?"

"Definitely."

Nel tucked the money back into her pocket. They fell into silence, just like the silence she had dreaded. Only the sound of the television in the background filled the diner.

"...found dead just an hour ago," the reporter was saying on the television. Nel was hardly listening at first, focusing instead on the chef in the kitchen, who was visible through a window in the wall. He was reading the paper the waiter had just handed him and taking out some beef to form into a patty.

"...torn to shreds. Police say they wouldn't have found the Scotts for hours had the neighbors not reported loud barking…"

Nel didn't remember turning her head. She didn't even remember standing up to see the television better. All that stood out in her mind was the bright yellow caution tape, flapping in the wind outside of a very familiar white colonial house.

"Nel," Sam was saying behind her. "Nel!"

Her head was spinning.

"Police are asking anyone who knows anything at all to come forward. A very mournful day in Boulder, for the loss of two of its citizens to tragedy."

_That's not them. It can't be them. It's not. It's not. It's not. _

But there was no denying the house. She opened her mouth to scream but nothing came out; she wanted to throttle the reporter and beg him to say it was someone else, but she stood there, just looking blankly at the television.

"Nel," Sam said gently, beside her. "I swear, Malphas was exorcised, I don't - I don't know, I'm…" He was fumbling for words. Nel stepped away. She felt like she was in the eye of a hurricane - teetering on the edge of panic but somehow calm in the moment.

"I need a minute," she said, and walked out the diner.

* * *

"They're dead," Dean said, once Nel had walked out of the diner, her face starkly white and eyes vacant. He hadn't been keen on having the kid stay with him, and he was willing to kill Malphas, even if it meant her grandparents died, but still shock was ringing through him.

_We exorcised him. They should have lived. _

"How the _hell _did they die?" he demanded, standing up as well. Sam shook his head, his eyes slightly red.

"Malphas said damage to him would be inflicted on her grandparents," he said, almost in a whisper. "So, if we sent him to Hell…"

"They got dragged to Hell too," Dean finished. "That's why the neighbors heard barking. And her grandparents were torn to shreds, apparently. It must've been hellhounds."

Sam rounded back to the table, and to Dean's shock, picked up his glass of water and threw it against the wall. Dean expected it to shatter and found himself disappointed when the plastic cup simply bounced off the wall, sending icy water over the floor.

"Hey!" the waiter shouted from the kitchen, but neither of them answered.

"Sammy, it's okay-" he began, but Sam interrupted him.

"No. It's not. We try, again and again, and every single damn time we get screwed over. Just once - just _once _\- can't something go our way? We tried so hard to keep Nel out of this, to just get her life back to normal so that at least one Winchester could live a life that isn't complete shit. And look what happens!" Sam's voice had risen to a shout. "Every time, Dean! Every single time!"

"Sammy, I don't even want her in our lives at all, and I'm pissed too," Dean said. "Believe me, I'm pissed. I've been in a constant state of pissed since Yellow Eyes killed Mom."

Sam lifted his eyes to Dean's. "When does it end? We've been down this road time after time, tragedy after tragedy. When does it all just stop?"

"Winchesters have the crappiest luck in the world. I wouldn't bet on it being anytime soon."

Sam took a deep breath. "Yeah. Yeah, I know." He ran a hand through his hair. "I just wish that we could feel good about what we do for once. I mean, I spend most of my life waking up with this _weight _on my chest, and every single day it just gets harder and harder to…" he trailed off. "I should go talk to Nel."

"The kid's grandparents just died. Maybe we should give her a bit of breathing space," Dean said. He knew for sure that he wouldn't be going out to talk to Nel - that would be a recipe for an awkward conversation - but Sam would handle it.

Sam looked out the window. "If she does, then she can have breathing room later. Not outside a diner in the dark." He exhaled, as though priming himself to move, and then exited the diner.

Dean stood stock still until he realized the waiter was standing a few feet away from him.

"What the hell, man? Now I have to clean that up," he complained, pointing at the spilled water. Dean slapped a twenty dollar bill down on the table and wordlessly left the diner.

_When in doubt, go to the Impala_, he thought, walking quickly towards the car.

"Dean!" Sam came jogging from around the diner. His face was stricken. "She's gone."

"What? She just walked out of the diner two seconds ago," Dean said, joining Sam in a jog to the Impala. "Where the hell could she have gone?"

Sam raised his hands in frustration. "I don't know, Dean! But she's not out here!"

"Okay." Dean turned the key in the ignition. "No one else has left the diner, right? So she has to be walking down the road. I doubt she's gone more than a couple minutes in either direction."

_Or she was kidnapped by some other demon and is already dead. _The unspoken words rang through the car.

But twenty seconds driving down the road, the headlights shone on a mane of light brown, curly hair, hurriedly bouncing along as a small girl walked along the side of the road. Dean pulled on the brakes and followed Sam out of the car to Nel, where she was standing, avoiding their eyes and hugging herself.

"I'm not coming with you," she said, her voice wavering. "I'll… hitchhike or something. I don't want to be a burden. If my grandparents are dead, then I don't want you to get killed either."

"Believe me, it takes more than a demon to kill us," Dean told her. "You think you're going to get us killed? It's the other way around, kid."

"Nel, it's night," Sam said. "Let's get in the car and we can make a plan tomorrow-"

"No. I can hitchhike to my second cousin's house. She lives in Connecticut."

Sam's voice was strained. "You can't hitchhike to Connecticut."

"Well, I'm not staying with my great uncle in Boulder." Nel hitched her duffle bag higher onto her shoulder. "So I guess that leaves Connecticut."

"Why don't you want to be with your great uncle?" Dean asked in spite of himself. "If he lives right in your town?"

Nel wiped her eyes. "He's eighty-five and hates my grandfather. I… I can't… I'll just go to my second cousin's, because-" She broke off.

"Nel, you know that you have a place with us," Sam said, reaching out to her shoulder. "You can stay with us. Permanently."

Sam's words echoed in Dean's ears. _Permanently. _

"Hang on," he interrupted. He could feel Nel looking at him with fear in her glassy eyes, but he didn't care right now; all he cared about was the fact that Sam had just made an executive decision that Dean had no intention of going through with.

"Sam," he said in a lowered voice, stepping back and around the Impala so that Nel wouldn't hear. "No. No, no, no. Final answer - no."

Sam looked at him defiantly. "Dad wouldn't want us to abandon our sister. We're not leaving her to a second cousin in Connecticut, or to an eighty-five year old man she hardly knows in Boulder."

"So we're inducting her into our life of death and nightmares? To our military bunker, to the world of monsters and scary-as-hell things that shouldn't exist but do?" Dean said angrily. "No. I mean it, Sam."

"I mean it, too."

"I don't care. That kid is not living with us."

"'That kid' is smart. Nel is intelligent, Dean, I can see it. She won't be a burden. And maybe… maybe she'll become part of the team."

"So, what, we're bringing her home so you can entertain this stupid one-big-happy-family dream of yours?" Dean demanded. "Is that it?"  
**"**No, it's not. I just have morals. And right now, morals are telling me that we're taking her home. She is our _sister._**" **Sam emphasized the last word loudly. "Remember what family is, Dean? We take care of each other."

"She's a _half_-sister. She's not-" Dean started to say, but Sam's fist came at him before he could finish. Pain exploded on the left side of his jaw, and for a moment stars flashed in front of his eyes as he stumbled back, hands rising to his face. Within a moment he recovered, ready to fight back, but Sam had already turned away.

"Get in, Nel, we're going home," Sam said flatly, taking the driver's seat without even asking Dean.

_What the hell does he think he is doing_? Dean moved, numb, to the passenger side, and once they were in the car, he gripped his fists, willing himself to not punch Sam. Nel carefully got in the backseat, tears staining her cheeks, and Sam revved the engine, pulling Baby onto the road much rougher than Dean would have liked.

Disbelief at what had just happened throbbed as a reminder in the left side of his jaw.

_One big happy family, here we come._

* * *

**A/N: **I kind of hate writing Dean like this. He makes me cringe but it's necessary for the plotline!

Also, I forgot to mention that the con at DC was so much fun. Jensen and Misha were very sweet and while I missed Jared tremendously, I'm glad he was able to be with family. My name was called for a question at the Jensen and Misha panel but I didn't get to ask before the panel ended, which was very disappointing, but at least it meant I got to stand close to the stage the whole time! Otherwise I would have been a million miles back in the fearful, wild, desolate region also known as general admission.

By the way, Jensen's song "Sounds of Someday" that appeared in 15x04 is on Spotify and it's my favorite of the songs he's made!

Sorry for rambling - all reviews are greatly appreciated! Thanks so much for reading!


	6. So Long, Farewell

**A/N: **I'd like to formally apologize for three things. First, the length of this chapter. Second, the amount of time it took for me to publish this chapter. Third, the quality of this chapter. Sometimes, the words just won't come, and that was this chapter. I'm hoping the next one goes better, so forgive me for the lack of content here.

"She's been in there for twenty-four hours."

Sam's report fell on deaf ears. Dean wasn't paying attention, engrossed in a rerun of an old horror movie that was flickering on the television.

"Twenty-four hours, Dean," Sam repeated. "You don't care at all?"

"Hang on." There was a gruesome murder on the television and the sound of blood spattering the walls. Finally, the scene cut to a commercial, and Dean turned around. "What were you saying?"

"Nel's been in her room for twenty-four hours. I don't know what to do." Sam shifted uneasily. "We've never been into the whole comfort thing, and I'm not sure if she _wants _to talk to us, or if it's better that we leave her alone."

"If she wants to talk, she'll come out," Dean said. "I'm not worried about it yet."

"You're such an asshole," Sam said, picking up the remote and shutting off the television, ignoring Dean's sound of protest.

"No, I'm realistic. Hell, we've all lost people we love. I feel bad for Nel, I really do. But you know what? I've trained myself to move on." Dean picked up a cold slice of pizza that had been sitting on the coffee table for at least four hours and took a massive bite of it. "If we mourned every single person that died on a case, we'd be in grief constantly," he said through a mouthful of cheese.

"I brought her food and left it outside the door." Sam sat down on the couch next to Dean. "I haven't checked to see if she took it."

"I did."

Nel's stiff voice from behind them made Sam jump.

"Hey," he said, getting back up again. "Uh… how are you?"

Nel considered him with her level, dark blue eyes. "I've been better."

"I know this can't be easy, so if you want to talk, we're here," Sam said, speaking slowly to choose his words carefully. "But if you don't want to, we're also good with that. Dean's the master of that art."

Dean turned on him. "Dude."

"Just… let us know if there's anything we can do," Sam continued. "Anything at all."

"Can you bring them back?" Nel's voice was so flat that she might have been talking about the weather.

"No." Dean answered first this time. "People can't just come back."

Nel blinked several times. "I guess I thought that would be your answer. I'll leave you guys to your… brother things." She mustered a small smile that looked anything but happy and left the library.

"Way to go, Sammy," Dean said cheerfully. "You really nailed that bonding, sibling-love conversation."

Sam sighed. "I did better than you did."

"Keep telling yourself that." Dean popped the rest of the pizza in his mouth. "I vote we take her to her great uncle's house."

Sam ignored him.

"I get that you're trying to make her feel welcome, but we both know that this isn't going to be permanent," Dean continued. "So we might as well just take her there now."

"You still think this is some sort of joke, don't you? As long as Nel wants to stay here, we'll give her a place in our family," Sam said. "And you know what? I'm going to go talk to her now." He left Dean open-mouthed on the couch and made his way down the hallway to Nel's bedroom.

There was silence when he first knocked on the door, then a soft, "Come in."

"Hey," he said, leaving the door open behind him. He gestured at the bed. "Can I sit?"

"Yeah. Of course." Nel's eyes were red rimmed. "What is it?"  
**"**I want to talk to you."

They sat in silence for a full ten seconds. Nel was staring at her feet, sitting so still that Sam might've thought she was a statue.

"I wonder what Dad would think," he said finally. He wasn't quite sure if bringing up their father was a good idea, but at the moment he didn't have any other ideas. "If he was alive, and saw his three kids together. I like to think he'd find it hilarious."

"Hilarious?" Nel's head moved up slightly. That was progress.

"Yeah. A reckless, rock 'n' roll loving asshole, a Stanford dropout, and a sixteen year old girl who deserves much more than what's happened to her in the past few weeks."

Nel wiped her nose with her sleeve. "I barely remember him."

"That's not entirely a bad thing. He wasn't really the kind of dad that played ball and made blueberry pancakes on Sundays."

"But at least you knew him," Nel said, desperation in her voice. "I didn't know him. My family died when I was little, and now my grandparents are dead, and…" Her voice cracked. "I just… I feel so alone. And I don't want to make things awkward between you, me, and Dean," she went on, her voice becoming higher as she went. "But I feel like I can't stay here. You and Dean are so close. It's obvious. I can't come between that. Even if I wanted to, it would be impossible… I mean, you guys grew up on the road together, and I'm younger and a girl and I can't hunt and-"

"Hey," Sam said gently. "Family isn't fixed. It changes all the time. Yeah, we didn't know each other growing up, but that doesn't mean that we can start our family now. You're our sister and as much as Dean is having trouble wrapping his head around it, we've got to have each other's backs. Right now, you're as much a Winchester as we are."

For the first time, Nel smiled; even with her eyes wet, Sam could see the relief in her face. "Anneliese Winchester. I always sort of dreamed about a day when Dad would come to my doorstep and I could spend more time with him and even use his last name. I never thought… it was all just a fantasy to me."

"And as far as hunting goes, I think you'd be a good part of the team," Sam said. "Not in the dangerous parts of it, but I'm guessing you wouldn't mind being on the research crew."

At his words, Nel's smile transformed from watery to beaming. "Really?"

"Really." Sam dug in his pocket and pulled out a necklace that had been John's from years ago. It was a small gray stone, dangling on a black leather thread. "Dad said that he picked up this stone on the ground after his first hunt. It was something he held onto as a momento. Years ago, he made it into a necklace, and kept it in the back of the Impala. I think he'd want you to have it."

Nel took the necklace with trembling hands. "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

Nel lifted her hair and clasped the necklace around her neck. It fell under her shirt, the small stone not larger than a pinky nail. "Thanks, Sam," she said. "Thank you so much."

"Joining the team, huh?" came Dean's voice from the doorway.

Sam winced. _Dean, please be nice,_he begged internally.

"Ever loaded a gun?" Dean asked, and tossed a revolver onto the bed. "Try it."

At first, Sam wasn't sure if Dean was trying to assume the nice-older-brother role or not. He sat hesitantly, watching Dean's inscrutable face.

"I haven't," Nel said, looking at the revolver warily. "Could you…" She didn't finish the sentence, turning to Dean with apprehension.

Dean nodded. "Thought so." He tossed some bullets onto the bed. "If you can't even load a revolver, you're going to die if you stay with us. Everyone who gets close to us dies, and you're going to be next on fate's hit list."

"Dean - why would you-" Sam began, but Dean interrupted him.

"My advice? Leave now, kid. Because anyone who can't load a revolver has even less of a chance of surviving with us."

Sam was on his feet and grabbed Dean's arm roughly, pulling him into the hallway. He closed the door behind him, guilt throbbing through him as he saw Nel's hurt face before the door shut.

"Nice," he snapped. "Real nice. What made you think that was a good idea?"

Dean shrugged. "She deserves to know what she's getting into."

"And that was your way of telling her? Dropping a gun on her bed and saying she's going to die?"

"Whatever gets her out of our hair quicker works for me."

"Why do you hate her so much?" Sam demanded. "What has she done to you?"

"It's for the best, Sam. It's better with just the two of us."

"No, you need to stop stowing your crap under the carpet, Dean. You're so worried she'll die that it's eating you up. After Adam you can't bear the thought of her dying. And it's scaring the _shit _out of you." Sam went up the stairs to the library of the bunker and leaned on the table. The SW and DW carved into the table seemed to glare at him.

"You done being a psychiatrist?" Dean asked flatly. "I'm not here to talk about feelings."

"I think you need to, because clearly you have some internal things that you need to work out, or whatever it is you need to do to stop being such a jerk-"

"Okay, Mr. Family Man, I'm glad you're so eager to have her join us and get hurt. You think you're being the noble one, but wake up call - you're not. _I'm _the one that wants to keep her safe. _I'm _the one that wants her as far away from us as possible, because that's where she'll have the smallest chance of being murdered."

"Last time we tried that, a demon broke into her house, and now her grandparents are dead," Sam pointed out.

Dean shook his head. "All I'm saying is she's better off away from us."

They fell into silence. Sam stared down at the carved initials into the table, and a sudden image of an NW carved into the table as well flashed through his mind.

_What if Dean's right? _

No, he told himself. He couldn't think like that. Nel would be safer with them. She _had _to be.

Light footsteps drew his attention away from the initials. He turned to see Nel walking with a determined expression towards Dean. She thrust out the revolver and placed it in Dean's hands, turned around, and marched back out of the room.

Dean was staring, slack-jawed, at her. He lifted up the revolver. "She loaded it."

Sam stifled a smile. "She might be tougher than you think. Did you ever think that maybe she has some Winchester in her?"  
**"**Winchesters die," Dean reminded him.

"And they also come back a lot," Sam countered. He took the revolver and set it down on the table. "You need to face it, Dean. She's our sister and she's a Winchester. Her family is dead and we're all she has left."

Dean's eyes met his. "Fine," he said harshly. "But don't come crying to me when she gets killed." He took the revolver and unloaded the gun, stowing the bullets in his pocket. "I think I'll find a hunt. I need to kill something."

"Find something out west," Sam advised. "We should go to Boulder and get the rest of Nel's belongings for her, since she'll be here… uh… longer than we originally thought."

"Fine," Dean said again, with the same tone. He stalked out of the room, jamming the gun in his pocket.

Sam exhaled slowly. Bit by bit, he'd work on Dean. And maybe - _maybe _\- he could get him to come around.

* * *

Nel had enjoyed every moment of dropping the loaded gun in Dean's hands.

_And he thought I couldn't figure it out. _

Of course, she depended entirely on a quick YouTube video to load the gun, but she would never tell Dean that. As far as she was concerned, he could go on thinking she had figured out the machinations of the weapon completely on her own.

And, surprisingly, she wasn't mad at him, either. For the first time in what felt like centuries, she forgot - albeit briefly - about her grandparents' death. For a few blissful minutes, it was just the simple task of loading the gun, and nothing else.

She felt like someone had sucked her insides out of her chest, and all that was left was a hollow skeleton. It was a numbing pain.

They were dead. Gone. Never to wake up again, never to smile at her again, never to hug her again.

She felt like crying but there were no more tears. Instead, she continued as though in a haze. Brushing teeth, combing hair, drinking water… it all felt empty.

Sam came in at some point and invited her to go with them to a hunt in western Colorado. They'd stop at her house and get her things, he told her. Then they'd find a motel to hole up in. She was welcome to help out with the researching.

It should have made her excited. A day ago, she would have been jumping up and down with enthusiasm, planning how the research would go, picking her outfit, and working up the courage to ask Sam and Dean how to use a gun just in case the monster came unexpectedly. Now, she found herself nodding as Sam spoke to her, and then sitting down blankly on her bed again once he left.

"I miss you," she said aloud to no one. The words hung in the air. She imagined her grandparents responding that they missed her as well, and the thought of their voices brought tears to her eyes again. Angrily wiping at her face, she went into the bathroom to examine her reflection.

Her eyelids and the whites of her eyes were red. Her hair was frizzy and untamed, and her cheeks had stains of tears on them. She turned on the faucet and waited for it to get icy cold, and splashed it on her face. Cold, just like what she felt inside.

Sam and Dean would be leaving in ten minutes.

"Join us if you want, because we'd love to have you come," Sam had said. "But it's okay if you'd rather stay here. We can get the rest of your things for you."

Woodenly she stood up. Like it or not, they weren't coming back. The realization hit her sharply and she drew in a breath as tears stung her eyes again. Her room felt too small all of the sudden, so she hurled her jacket over her shoulders, jammed her feet into her Converse, and marched out into the hallway, wiping her eyes vigorously.

"I'm coming," she said, entering the library.

_Lovely. My voice sounds like a stuffed up toddler. _Both of her brothers turned around, looking slightly surprised that she had emerged from her room.

She stood resolutely, crossing her arms to hug herself. "I know that I'll probably only slow you down, so I'll stay out of your way the entire time, but I just can't stay here for now. I need to get out."

"Nel, you know that's not true," Sam said, a smile breaking across his lips. "I'm glad you're coming."  
Dean grumbled something under his breath, and though Nel didn't catch his words, she could've guessed what he said.

"I have money," she said tentatively. "In my room. I'll help pay for everything, and then…" She didn't know what else to say. _I'll get a job? I'll inherit my grandparents' money? _

"How about we start with just being on the road together?" Sam said. "You have a laptop?"  
**"**Yeah."

"Good. You'll be able to help us, then."

Sam was trying so hard to make her feel welcome that she felt guilty. The feeling of being a burden would never go away, it seemed, and her heart sank at the prospect of living with the same empty feeling inside for the rest of her life. "What's the hunt?" she asked finally, plastering a smile on her face to appease him.

"We'll tell you in the car," he said simply.

Dean said nothing, and only looked at her as though she were a stupid creature unwelcome in their house.  
To be fair, that wasn't far off from what she was.

* * *

**A/N: **And that's it. I really, really tried to make this chapter good. Really. But I've been busy and stressed with school, and it was so hard to prioritize writing. I promise the next chapter will be better; thank you all for sticking with me!


	7. Slugs, Salt, and Studies

**A/N: **Brief disclaimer - some of the "history" in this chapter is accurate, but much of it I made up to fit the storyline (it's nothing too relevant, just some background on a town in Colorado). Just so you're aware :)

* * *

"An old man killing slug?" Nel echoed Sam's words as though he'd just uttered something insane. To be fair, an "old man killing slug" wasn't exactly something that was spoken everyday.

"That's what it looks like." Sam scrolled through the news on his phone. "As far as I can tell, anyone who witnessed the attacks said that a slimy, wormlike creature was responsible. I've never heard of anything like it."

So far, the slug had killed eleven elderly men. That was why he and Dean had chosen this hunt - it wouldn't be dangerous for Nel, since they were taking her along. The slug didn't seem interested in anyone else but old men.

"Everyone has their fetishes," Dean had commented when Sam had told him the pattern. "So do slugs, apparently."

Besides, it was in Idaho Springs, Colorado, so they'd be going through Boulder on their way there. It was the perfect chance for Nel to go home and grab whatever she needed to move in the bunker. Sam hadn't yet asked her if there was a funeral for her grandparents, but he wasn't even sure if she was in contact with the rest of her family. As far as the rest of the world knew, Nel was a missing child who had been kidnapped by two unknown men.

"You're the new face on the old milk carton," Dean had told Nel at the beginning of their road trip to Idaho Springs, indifferent to the empty expression on her face. "The police can't find you back in Boulder and reported you missing."

Nel had only looked at him vacantly. "I don't care," she had said in a small voice. "It doesn't even matter. Now that…" She hadn't even bothered finishing her sentence. It took all of Sam's effort to not intervene and berate Dean again for his behavior towards their sister.

By the time that they were out of Kansas, the sun had fallen an hour ago and Nel was asleep in the backseat, her face peaceful for the first time that day.

"Old man killing slug didn't seem to cheer her up," Dean said flatly, taking a right onto the highway. "You'd think a bit of hunting would do her good."

Sam stared at Dean, bewildered. "Uh, you realize the rest of the world doesn't get off on hunting like you do?"

"The rest of the world just hasn't tried it yet. If they did, we'd have a surplus of hunters."

"You're weird. Anyway," Sam said, clearing his throat, "I was thinking we should do something for her. Because her grandparents…"

"Kicked the bucket?" Dean finished. "Why? We've already taken her in. Isn't that enough?"

"I was thinking something more along the lines of buying her something. I don't know." Sam frowned. "What do girls her age like?"

"Diamonds, right? Isn't that a girl's best friend?"

"Why would she want diamonds? She's not even wearing any jewelry."

Dean raised his hands off the steering wheel in confusion. "How the hell would I know what she wants as a pity present?"

Sam hesitated. "A gift card to a store, maybe. That way she has free reign to buy what she wants."

"Dude, her grandparents just died. I don't think retail therapy is the answer." He tapped his fingers on the wheel. "Besides, I still don't think we should get her anything at all. Like I said earlier, we've all lost people we care about."

"I don't know, then," Sam sighed and glanced back at Nel again. Her forehead was pressed into the window and her puffy hair was almost entirely hiding her face. "I just wish I could make her pain go away."

"Yeah, and I wish I could hook up with a hot chick tonight. But instead we're going after an old man assassin slug." Dean shrugged. "You know… I still can't believe she's Dad's kid."

"Well, Dad did sleep around a lot."

"I just can't believe he'd have a kid like _that_. I mean, look at her - she's wearing a skirt and she owns a Sherlock tee shirt. I didn't think a Winchester could ever be a nerd." Dean suddenly turned his eyes accusingly on Sam. "Well, I take that back. I didn't think a Winchester could ever be a _girly_nerd."

"Who knows? Maybe we've got more siblings out there."

Dean groaned. "Don't even say that."

Sam paused for a few minutes. "Maybe she likes pie. We could pick her up one at a convenience store."

"No." Dean's response was so firm that it startled Sam.

"Why not? You like pie, so maybe she does, too."

"I'm _not _sharing pie with her."

"You don't have to share pie with her. Just buy your own."

"No, I mean-" Dean's jaw was clenched. "I'm not sharing my love of pie with her."

"Okay. Chill out, man. It was just an idea," Sam said, shaking his head.

"A bad idea."

"You come up with something, then," Sam said, leaning back in his chair.

Dean snapped his fingers. "I got it. How about a nice concert of Aerosmith?" He grinned, and before Sam could stop him, Dean had pushed a cassette into the radio of the Impala. The intro to "Dream On" began to blare, shaking the entire car with the volume of bass.

"Turn it down!" Sam snapped, but it was too late; Nel had jumped, awake, in the backseat.

"Oops," Dean said dryly, turning it down. "Did I wake you?"

Nel looked from him to Sam. "It's okay," she said meekly. "It's early for me to be sleeping, anyway."

"Nel, I'm sorry-" Sam started to say, but Dean cut in. "We heading to Boulder on the way to the hunt or on the way back to Lebanon?"

"The way to Idaho Springs," Sam said. "Nel can get whatever she needs for tonight." He glanced back at his sister. "Sound good to you?"

"Yeah." Nel's voice was still small, as though she were on the verge of tears.

* * *

She wasn't sure how she would handle walking into her house. There was still yellow police tape surrounding the outside, and it had taken much convincing from Sam to get her to cross the line. It felt all kinds of wrong - for one, it felt very illegal to duck underneath the tape and continue into the house. More significantly, her grandparents wouldn't be there, and never would step through their old, chipped doorway again.

But once she was past the police tape, walking through the threshold only felt strange. She expected the too-familiar sights to shatter her heart into a thousand pieces, but it rang of home too much, and at first she felt an unexpected feeling of liberation. Home was safe; it was the only place she ever felt truly herself.

But one minute inside and the differences became too obvious - the silence in the living room. The smell of forensic chemicals from whatever the policemen and detectives had been doing in there. The darkness and shadows, with not a single lamp or light switched on. The tea kettle sitting, empty, in the cupboard, instead of steaming on the stove like it usually was at this time of night. Goosebumps ran up Nel's arms; the cold drafts in the air, with no heater running to keep the house warm, felt like ice on her skin.

_Has it only been a few days since I was here last time? _

Her grandparents weren't here, and they would never come here again, and that was the most odd part of all. When alive, her grandparents almost never left the house, it seemed. They were homebodies.

"I like to stay where I can walk around without a bra and no one cares," her grandmother had said once. Nel's heart seared at the thought and she had to swallow the heavy lump that was rising in her throat.

A hand on her shoulder made her flinch. "You need help packing?" Sam asked tentatively. "I could lug some stuff out into the Impala for you."

"Yeah. Dean will get mad if I take longer than ten minutes, won't he?" The thought made Nel's heart race.

"No, he won't," Sam said quickly, and after a moment, he added, "And if he does, I'll punch him in the jaw for you."

Nel hoped he was kidding, but she didn't question it. "Um, I just have some clothing I thought I'd bring… and… maybe some keepsakes, but…" She backpedaled. "I don't want to take up too much space in your car, though, so I'll keep it to a minimum."

"Hey, don't worry about it, okay? Take whatever you want."

Nel wrapped her arms around herself. "Thanks, Sam," she said, and dashed up the stairs, tears prickling at her eyes. She avoided looking into her grandparents' bedroom and stayed on task, heading straight for her room. It looked exactly as she left it, and that was what made the tears fall first.

_I left this house without saying goodbye. I never told them how much I love them. _And to think that she'd carelessly left her bed unmade, her clothing thrown on the floor, a glass of water sitting half empty on her nightstand. _I should've appreciated my time here more than I did. _

But most painful of all was the note sitting across her pillow, with black ink scrawled across in her grandmother's penmanship. Slowly she approached her bed, not daring to breathe, her arm outstretched to the small slip of paper.

_Welcome home, Nel! _it read, with a small heart drawn underneath. That was all. A simple, brief note that couldn't have taken more than ten seconds to write out, and yet her chest felt cleaved in two. Nel fell to her knees, holding the note with shaking hands and tears falling into the musty smelling carpet.

She wasn't sure how long she stayed on the floor, crying until her cheeks were sticky and her eyes felt swollen. It was the creak on the stairs that told her Sam was coming, so she sat up, pushing her hair back and wiping at her eyes. Blankly she stared down at the note, and traced the letters written on it. Her grandmother had written it for her, expecting her to return home and everything to go back to normal. Her heart stung with pain and she tucked the note into her pocket, unable to look at it any longer.

"Hey," Sam said, and to Nel's embarrassment she saw Dean coming behind him. She wiped at her face again, but even without a mirror she knew it was no good.

_My face must look like a soggy tomato. _

To her relief, Sam didn't ask if she was okay. Instead he bent down onto the floor and pulled her into a tight hug. Some part of her heart responded to the warmth, and she hugged him back, the tears coming once more.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice uneven once she pulled away. "I got tears on your flannel."

"Trust me, this flannel has seen a lot worse - blood, guts, and brains." When she widened her eyes, he said, "Uh, I cleaned it first. Don't worry."

Somehow that was what did it. The sheepish expression on Sam's face, with Dean standing stiffly in the doorway, and the recurring thought that _these were her brothers _brought a smile to her lips. After a moment, Sam smiled too, as though relieved that she had stopped crying. Slowly the smile left her lips and she looked back sadly at her bed.

"Nothing's going to be the same, is it?" she asked, digging her hand into her pocket where she could feel the folded note.

"No, but that doesn't mean it can't get better," Sam said. "Moving on isn't easy, but someday you'll look back at see this as just another step to where you'll end up."

"Maybe," Nel said, but at the moment she could see no scenario in which she'd be accepting of her grandparents' deaths.

_Maybe he's right, though. Maybe it's too fresh right now. _

"Besides," Sam continued, "Winchesters sort of have a reputation of bouncing back." He held out his hand to help her stand up. "You ready to go kill a slug, Nel Winchester?"

Her mouth tugged into a smile again. "Okay."

* * *

"This is it," Nel said, coming out of her house with her violin in its case. She'd tried to keep the packing minimal, but the trunk was packed with clothing, books, and other miscellaneous items that she couldn't leave behind. Dean was already glaring at the trunk, looking as though he wanted nothing more than to strip her things out of the trunk and leave them on the side of the road.

But when she carried out the violin, he looked a bit surprised. "You play violin?" he asked.

_He's actually talking to me. Don't screw it up, Nel, don't screw it up. _**"**Uh, yeah, but only since freshman year of highschool," Nel said, looking down at her feet. "I'm not-"

"Can you play Led Zeppelin?"

"Uh… I've never tried. Most of my sheet music is Bach, or Vivaldi," she said, feeling her cheeks growing warm just by Dean saying something to her that wasn't scathing or sarcastic. "But I probably could, if I found the sheet music online."

Dean didn't say anything else, but his eyes lingered on the violin a moment longer before he returned to the front seat of the Impala with the keys.

_Maybe someday he'll like me. _The hope swelling in her chest almost made her forget to look back at her house as she got in the backseat. Her heart spasmed in her chest as the car started; a deep feeling told her that it would be a long time before she came back to Boulder, if ever.

"Bye," she whispered, low enough that Sam and Dean wouldn't be able to hear. "I love you."

The house just stared silently at her as they drove off. Nel kept her eyes on it until the horizon swallowed the roof.

"Want to get out of the urban area before we find a place for dinner?" Sam was asking Dean. "Traffic might get worse the longer we stay."

"Sure. Then we're stopping at the first fast food place we see, because I don't want to get to Idaho Falls late."

"What are you, eighty years old?" Sam asked him.

"I want my beauty sleep if we're hunting a damn slug tomorrow."

"Your _beauty _sleep? So now you're a middle aged mom?"

"Shut up, princess."

Nel couldn't help but smile at their bickering. "You guys are forgetting there's a girl in the car. A middle aged mom and a princess _aren't _insults."

"You're right." Sam turned to Dean, grinning, and corrected himself. "What are you, a pompous dick?"

Dean gave Sam the finger. "Bite me."

They continued out of Boulder and past Denver. It was nearing midnight when they entered Idaho Springs, a small town in central Colorado with rising hills on either side of the small homes. Pine trees were scattered across the hills like speckled cacti and a river ran through the center of the town. Almost immediately after getting off the exit, a large, chipped sign for the "6 & 40 Motel" loomed up at them. Dean pulled into the parking lot and shut off the ignition.

"I'll pay," he said, and got out of the car. Sam opened the trunk and took his bag as well as Dean's. Nel's own bag was smaller, a hastily stuffed backpack with the toiletries that she'd need for that night.

"This looks cute," she commented, listening carefully for the sound of the river behind the motel. It was faint, but audible.

"Don't be duped," Sam said, glancing at the price of the motel. "In a ski town like this, accommodation should be a lot more expensive."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Sam said, closing the trunk door, "that it'll probably be disgusting."

Sam was right. There were stains on the bedding, a faint smoky smell despite the sign that read NO SMOKING, and an old bandaid sitting on the floor.

"Welcome to Winchester-style living," Dean said brashly, throwing his duffel onto the bed closest to the door. "I get this one."

"I can take the couch," Nel said quickly, before Sam could offer, because guilt at how much they had done for her was already prickling at her conscience.

"You sure?" Sam asked, opening up the closet to take out some extra linens. "Because I'm fine with the couch."

"Yeah, I'm sure. You're tall; your feet would hang over the edge." Nel sat on the couch and Sam handed her several blankets.

"If you get cold or anything tonight, let me know and I can go to the lobby for extra blankets," he offered.

"Okay. Thank you so much," Nel told him, and she hoped that he knew how much she meant it.

* * *

Despite the couch being stiff and small, Nel fell asleep quickly and didn't wake up until a bit after six. Sam was already up, sipping a coffee and browsing on his laptop in bed. Dean was passed out, snoring lightly.

"Good morning," Nel whispered.

"Good morning." Sam didn't bother whispering. At her expression he added, "Dean deserves to be woken up. He woke you up yesterday with Aerosmith." With that he coughed loudly, looking pointedly at Dean's sleeping figure.

Sure enough, Dean jumped up, his hand darting underneath his pillow for some odd reason that Nel couldn't figure out, before his eyes landed on Sam and he exhaled.

"Good morning," Sam said, overtly cheerful. "Sleep well?"  
**"**It's only six in the morning," Dean grumbled, removing his hand from under his pillow. "Why the hell are you being so loud?"  
**"**I seem to remember you being loud in the car yesterday."

Dean didn't answer but pulled on his jeans and a flannel over his tee shirt. "You get coffee already?"

Sam lifted his mug in answer.

"And you didn't get any for me?"

"Sorry," Sam said, this time a bit more apologetic. "I woke up an hour ago, and there's no microwave. Yours would have gotten cold."

Dean muttered something under his breath, and pointed towards Nel. "Hey. You."

Her neck snapped up at his words. "Me?"

"Yeah. Want to make yourself useful?" He tossed her a five dollar bill. "There's a cafe across the street."

Nel nodded in understanding, but Sam, exasperation in his voice, peeled his eyes away from his laptop. "Dean, just get it yourself."

"It's fine," Nel put in, standing up. "I can get breakfast, too, if you want. Egg sandwiches or something."

"Thanks, Nel," Sam said, and he handed her a twenty dollar bill. "Here. Take some extra, just in case. Twenty-five should cover everything."

"What do you want me to get?"

"Whatever's cheapest," Dean said. "And I like my coffee black."

Nel nodded again - she was beginning to feel like a bobblehead - and slipped out the door, breathing in the fresh morning air. The motel room felt stagnant with tension and to be out in the open air was relieving. Last night, when Dean had asked her about her violin, she'd hoped that he wanted to move past their bad start, but now it seemed he didn't care again.

She blinked back tears tickling her eyes. _I cannot - will not - cry again today. It's not happening. _But thinking about crying only made her think of her grandparents, and by the time she had reached the cafe, she was brushing tears off of her cheeks.

"Mornin'," said the cashier, looking her up and down with apathy. "What do you want?"  
Nel ordered them three egg sandwiches on English muffins, as well as Dean's coffee, and sat down in a stiff wooden chair to wait for the food.

Her phone was blowing up with notifications. She hadn't answered any of the texts from her friends pleading to know where she was. By now she was probably thought dead.

_Twenty-four hours, and your chances of being alive are slim, _her grandfather had said once, when they were talking about kidnapping. Looking back, Nel couldn't remember why the subject had come up.

She slipped her phone back into her pocket with more guilt. A voice in the back of her hand began to panic the more she contemplated the fact that she was now officially a missing child. _What if someone recognizes me? What if someone turns me into the police because they watch the news? What if someone knows I'm the same missing Anneliese Scott from Boulder? _But the more numbing pain at the forefront of her mind stifled that concern. It didn't even feel like it mattered that much. If her grandparents had died, then she could deal with being recognized in public.

"Ma'am," the cashier said loudly. He sounded annoyed. "Your food."

Nel got to her feet quickly, thanking the cashier and taking the bag of food. She left the cafe and crossed the street.

Sam and Dean were in the exact same place in the motel. Nel sat the food down on the desk and took out an egg sandwich for herself, chewing it dully while folding the blankets that she'd slept in on the couch.

"Hello, Anneliese."

Nel yelped and whirled around. The voice behind her - and it was _right _behind her, not more than ten inches away - didn't belong to Sam or Dean, and she hadn't seen anyone else in the room when she had entered.

"Cas!" Dean said, getting to his feet. "Where the hell did you go?"

Nel backed up, sitting down onto the couch. The man in front of her was wearing a tan trench coat and a blue tie. His dark brown hair was tousled and his blue eyes felt as though they penetrated her very mind when he turned to look at her.

"Sorry - Cas, can't you give a little warning?" Sam asked. "Nel, this is Cas. He's… uh, he's an angel."

"You're an angel?" Nel said, dumbfounded. "Like… a biblical angel?"

"Yes." The man regarded her and, without warning, his eyes glowed blue before fading. "My name is Castiel."

"Stop showing off, Cas," Dean said from the back of the room, and then, to Nel, "He's just trying to impress you."  
**"**Castiel. Uh… nice to meet you," Nel said, holding out her hand tentatively. Castiel shook it; his hand was warm and his grip was firm.

"It's a pleasure to meet you as well," Castiel said, looking at her intently, and Nel had the strange feeling that he really meant what he was saying.

"So what happened in Heaven?" Sam asked. "What made you go MIA for so long?"

Cas grimaced. "There was an insurrection. Several souls became too self-aware and decided that they wanted to escape their heavens. We had to stop them before they broke every door down in Heaven."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "So, nothing we need to worry about? No apocalypse? No life-threatening, world-ending bad guy?"

"Well, I suppose if the souls wanted to attack, then they could have banded together and-"

"Excellent," Dean interrupted, clapping Cas on the back. "I'm glad you have it under control. In the meantime, we have an evil slug to kill."

"Where are you going to look for it?" Nel asked. "Do you know where it keeps its... lair, or hideout, or whatever?"

"No," Sam answered. He pulled out a map. "I was working on this while you were out getting breakfast." He showed her the eleven marks on the map. "There's absolutely no connection at all between the victims - the attacks are on every side of the town. All we know is that it's going after old men."

"Let me see that." Dean grabbed the map from Sam.

"Anneliese. It's good to see you with your brothers," Cas said, turning his frighteningly blue eyes on her while Sam and Dean began to argue over whether the map was marked correctly. He studied her deeply, and she shifted, apprehensive. "Your soul emanates the same pure energy of perseverance as them. I think you'll fit in well."

"Um," was all Nel could think to say. Cas continued.

"All humans were born with a purpose," he said. His tone was intimidatingly deep, and deadly serious. "Some have weaker purposes. Others have stronger ones. Angels can see these purposes, similarly to how you humans would view a candle. Either the flame is hardly flickering or it's tall and bright. Your purpose… it's burning brightly."

Nel's mouth was dry. "Do you know what the purpose is?"

"No, unfortunately. I can only see the strength." Cas gazed at Sam and Dean. "The three of you have the strongest purposes I've ever seen."

"Is that a good thing?"

"Not always. Hitler also had a strong purpose," Cas said, his voice remaining just as flat as before. "You, Sam, and Dean all fascinate me."

"Uh… thank you?"

Cas gripped Nel's shoulder firmly. "It's fulfilling to finally meet you, Anneliese. This world needs more Winchesters," he said, and right before her eyes, he vanished into thin air. She gasped, then wheeled around to Sam and Dean.

"Did you see that?" she asked, turning her eyes back to where the angel had just been. "He just… teleported!"

"Yeah, he does that," Dean said. "And once again, with not a friggin' explanation of where he's gone. He'll be back soon enough."

"Wow." Nel kept her eyes trained on where he had vanished, as though he would suddenly appear again. "An _angel_."

"Don't get too excited. Most of them are douchebags." Dean slid off the bed and grabbed his duffel. "Alright. Let's get out there and find this son of a bitch."

"I can't believe it," Nel said, more to herself than Sam and Dean.

"I'll talk to the police," Sam said. "Dean, you want to talk to the family of the recent vic? Apparently the grandkids saw the slug."

"What do you want me to do?" Nel asked, snapping herself out of her stupor. "Is there anything I can help with?"

"Yeah, stay here and don't get into trouble," Dean said, but Sam interrupted him.

"You can do research on your laptop, if you want. We need to find out where the slug lives. If we can get to its lair, then we can try to kill it. We also need to find out how to kill it."

"On it," Nel said immediately, getting her laptop out.

"Here." Sam took a piece of paper and scrawled something on it, then handed it to her. "The top number is Dean's, and the bottom is mine. You should put those on speed dial, just in case-" He stopped himself. "You know. In case you ever need us."

"Okay." Nel took the paper. She gave them her number in return.

"We should be back by this afternoon," Sam said. "If not, we'll call."

"And if we don't call by nightfall, we're probably either dead or screwed," Dean added, not even meeting Nel's eyes. "If that happens, you'd better save our asses."

"That won't happen," Sam said quickly. "But here." He handed her a gun and a knife. "Use these if you need to."

Nel took them gingerly. "Bye," she said, and then the motel room was silent.

She opened up her phone and typed in Sam's number first, then Dean's.

_I never thought that I'd have a Winchester in my contacts. _

She scrolled by the names that began with G, and _Grandpa _and _Gram _caught her eye. Something rose in her throat and for a moment she couldn't breathe.

_The last time that I clicked on these contacts… I didn't know that it was my last time calling them. _That was what upset her the most - she hadn't appreciated every _last_. The last call. The last smile. The last hug. The last "I love you".

She couldn't tear her eyes away, and they were beginning to burn. Her ears were roaring, staring at the names, and a sudden impulse had her clicking the name and dialing. It only rang once before she ended the call, a choke escaping her lips again. With shaking hands she deleted both _Grandpa _and _Gra_m from the contacts, before thinking it through, before fear could stop her, before she could convince herself to hang onto their numbers. The empty list of names under G in her contacts gazed back at her.

She closed her phone and threw it roughly onto the bed, where it skittered across the smooth bedspread and fell to the floor on the other side. Taking several breaths to steel herself she opened up her laptop.

_Okay. Focus. Old man killing slug. _

Shoving all thoughts of her grandparents far away, where they wouldn't distract her, she dove into the web to find out whatever she could on the slug. Right now, she told herself, Sam and Dean were what mattered - not grief.

* * *

"But… I already talked to the police."

"I don't give a damn. I'm the FBI," Dean snapped. He didn't tend to resort to profanity when he was using an alias, but at the moment, he was in a bad mood. He'd already spoken to three of the families of victims, and each was more annoying than the last. They were all reluctant to share what they had seen and were vehement that Dean wouldn't believe whatever it was they had to say. And when people weren't itching to share details, it was difficult to find out pertinent information for the hunt.

It didn't help that Nel was on the case with them, let alone _living _with them. She hadn't done anything specific yet to give Dean a reason to dislike her, which was only frustrating him more. Everything would be much easier if she would just act rude or stupid; then, he'd be able to justify his distaste for her.

"Okay, then." The son of the fourth most recent victim took a deep breath. "You're probably going to think I'm crazy - I mean, you're definitely going to think I'm crazy, because this whole story is crazy - what I'm saying is-"

"Get on with it. And quickly."

"It was a giant slug! I swear I'm not lying."

"I never said you were, dude."

"And it killed my dad. It came right up to him and stabbed its little antennae through him." The man took a deep breath. "It was horrible."

"I'm sorry," Dean said, and this time he was serious. "Is there anything else you can remember? Details? Anything at all?"  
**"**Uh… it was slimy."

Dean had to fight to not roll his eyes. "Thank you," he said, loosening his tie. "You've been helpful."

_Actually, you've been the least helpful of anyone yet. _

"No problem, sir," the man said, opening the door for him. Dean was just going down the porch steps when his phone rang; on instinct, he picked it up without checking the caller ID, because nearly any phone call he received was from Sam.

"Hey," he said, putting the phone to his ear and unlocking the Impala with his left hand. "Anything at the station?"

"Hello? Dean?" came a soft voice on the other end.

_Freakin' Nel. _

"Yeah? What is it?" he said, not caring if his tone was a bit blunter than usual. Right now, he wasn't in the mood to feign courtesy.

"Um, I just called Sam, and talked to him about what I found. There's some old articles I dug up that'll hopefully help you."

_I doubt it. _**"**Go for it," he said anyway, keeping the car in park while Nel spoke.

"Well, I first was researching the town, to see if there was anything unique about it. Apparently, Idaho Springs is famous for its mining."

"Yeah. I know. Sam already told me. Is that it?" Dean asked, growing more impatient by the second.

"No," Nel said, and her voice sounded even more nervous. "Well, I did more research on the mines, and tried searches using more keywords than just slug. I guess there's this creature called a namekujira, and its English translation is essentially slugwhale - it's a portmanteau for slug and whale. That's why it's so big."

"Oh," Dean said, momentarily caught off guard and forgetting his irritation. "Okay. So how do we kill it?"

"It doesn't say online, but my best guess would be salt," Nel said.

Dean paused. "It's not a ghost."

"What?"

"It's not a ghost. Why would we need salt?"

"Oh. Do you hurt ghosts with salt?" Nel asked. The question forcibly reminded Dean of his agitation once again.

"Yes, you 'hurt' a ghost with salt," he said shortly. "So, what's your reasoning for salt with the slug?"

"Just a guess," Nel answered. "But, you know, the whole salt on a slug deal? What parents tell their little kids _not _to do? It'll create a salt water solution with the mucus. Osmosis will cause the water to transition from the slug to the salt water solution. You'll end up with a shriveled, dehydrated slug."

_What a geek. She reminds me of Sammy. _Dean quickly pushed that thought away. _No. No way. She's nothing like Sam. She's too annoying to be like Sam. _

When he didn't answer, Nel added, "Sam thought it might work."

"Okay. Well, we still don't know why it's going after old men," Dean said after a moment.

"Oh, yeah. I meant to tell you that earlier. It's because the slug lives in a mine that was recently reopened. Years ago, those old men shut down the mine because they saw the slug down there and swore to not tell anyone about it because they didn't want to be sent to the asylum or something. But then it was reopened, and the slug held a grudge against them, I think. So, it's come back, and it's killing each man that trapped it in the mine."

"Wow." Dean was rendered impressed against his will. "How'd you find that out?"

"I went to the library to look through archives, and the librarian was the wife of the first victim. He'd confessed to her what had happened and she told me since I was looking into it."

_Dammit. Nel did a good job. _

"Alright, kid. You know your research," Dean admitted, torn between upholding his dislike of her and showing admiration for what she'd found. "I'll call Sam and we'll head to the mine. You sure about what you found?"

"Um… no?"  
**"**Great. That's encouraging. Well, it's our best shot right now." Dean hesitated. "See you later," he said briefly, and hung up before she could respond.

* * *

**A/N: **It was a such a relief to write this chapter because I got past my horrible writer's block from last chapter. Thank you all for the lovely reviews and encouragement - it honestly helped me to write this last bit.

I hope you're all enjoying it so far! Thanks so much for still reading!


	8. Ace in the Hole

The moment Dean saw Nel's puffy-haired head climbing out of the car with Sam, his insides curled with anger.

_No way. Sam wouldn't take her along. He's not that stupid. _

Yet there was Nel, walking slightly apprehensively next to Sam towards Dean. She glanced at the entrance to the mining shaft, fear in her eyes.

That image alone went against all laws of the universe. Dean was of the opinion that Winchesters weren't supposed to have _fear _in their eyes, and right now his younger sister looked petrified. He glared at her with all the sour feelings he could muster.

"Sam?" he said bluntly once his brother and Nel had gotten close enough. "I thought we were meeting at the shaft, _alone_? As in, no teenage girl coming along?"

Nel cast her head downward. Good, he thought. Maybe she'd decide to not tag along.

"I tried," Sam said, looking at Dean with a pleading expression. "She was adamant that she'd be fine, and…"

"You couldn't say no," Dean finished. "Great. Just great. So what, we leave her sitting outside the shaft while we go in?"

Nel's neck snapped upward. "I can come," she insisted. "I have the gun with rock salt, and Sam showed me how to aim and shoot. He says I'm not a bad shot."

Dean cast his glare on Sam, who wisely didn't answer.

"You know what? Fine," Dean said, gritting his teeth. "But when you two start crying because that one _there_**" **\- he pointed at Nel - "gets injured, don't get me involved."

"I can do this," Nel said earnestly. "Besides… I… I was just telling Sam that, well… I could use a distraction."

The words hung in the air.

"Alright," Sam said, his voice clipped as he looked to Dean with impatience. "Let's kill this slug."

He took the lead, heading into the shaft ahead of them. Dean sighed and glanced at Nel, who made eye contact with him and quickly averted her eyes.

"You next," Dean said stiffly. "I'll take the back."

_Damn you,_he thought, glowering at her back as she followed Sam.

They all turned on their flashlights. The shaft was pitch black and draped in cobwebs. The air turned cold despite the warm June day quickly, and within a couple of minutes Dean had goosebumps all up his arms.

"Hey," he called up to Sam as the shaft suddenly sloped downward. "Aren't abandoned mining shafts supposed to be dangerous?"

"Yeah. But Nel and I made a few phone calls on the way here to a couple of experts in the area," Sam said. "Apparently, there's been no detection of any dangerous gases, or any toxic chemicals, because the mine wasn't open for very long and it wasn't ever used very much even when it was open. It's a really small shaft, and it doesn't go deep, so we don't need to worry about getting lost, or the mine collapsing on us, because it's stable."

"Thanks for the concise summary, Mr. Textbook."

"That _was _concise," Sam countered. "It's as safe as a dangerous mine can get."

"There's still a few risks, though," Nel added. "I spoke on the phone with a professor who wrote a book on Colorado's mining shafts. He said that the most dangerous things in the Phoenix Mine Shaft were possible wildlife living in here, the water, and vertical shafts - I guess there are some trenches that are hidden by old boards or vegetation."

"How is the _water_dangerous?" Dean asked, interested against his will.

"Well, it's impounded, because it's been down here for so long and not moving, so it can be highly acidic."

He was about to answer, but held his tongue before he could say anything. _Stop it,_he told himself. _Don't engage with her. You can't. If she dies… _He didn't finish the thought.

He turned his flashlight onto the wall. Something was glimmering on the edge, a thick substance that looked suspiciously like mucus.

"I think we're getting closer," he said, pointing at the slime. "That wasn't on the walls earlier. Sluggy must be hanging out around here somewhere." The words had barely left his mouth when there was a crunching sound coming from ahead. Sam froze.

"That sound like a giant slug to you?" he asked softly. Nel raised her gun slightly; Dean could see her hands shaking. This was one of the worst decisions they'd ever made, he decided; she should never have come with them.

There wasn't time to think about that now, because there was movement ahead. Around the corner came an antenna, then another, and within a couple of seconds there was a massive slug sliding towards them. Dean wasn't quite sure what he had been expecting, but it was quite literally a slug, slime and all.

"Stay back," he snapped at Nel, pushing her towards the wall and joining Sam in the front. "Hey, you! Gary!"

The slug came to a halt as though it were shocked that there were humans in its lair, its antennae twitching towards them. Then, with rapid movement that Dean hadn't been expecting, it slid towards them, thousands of teeth sliding out from under a fold of slime.

They all fired; Dean could hear salt coming from Nel's gun in the back. The slug shrieked - if it was possible for slugs to shriek, at least - and reared up, its fleshy neck stretching towards the ceiling. Dean realized out of the corner of his eye that Nel was now standing next to him, determinedly shooting towards the slug.

"Stay back!" he yelled at her, but she didn't move, instead reloading her gun with more salt with fumbling fingers. She wasn't quick at reloading, but Dean had to admit she wasn't a bad shot, either, as she aimed and fired again, nailing the slug right below its eye.

It lunged at them. Dean dove to the side at the last moment, knocking into Nel. They tumbled out of the path of the slug, which charged by them and made a wide turn to come back around. Sam jumped up, shooting his gun again.

"Sam, down!" Dean yelled, and Sam dropped to the ground instantly as Dean fired at the slug. It careened into the side of the tunnel; he winced, praying to whoever was listening that the ceiling didn't come down on top of them. For a moment, he thought that they had the upper hand, because the slug seemed to be stuck on its side, but then its long fleshly tail whipped around and knocked them all backwards.

Dean fell back several feet, skidding across the dirt floor. He didn't wait for the slug to get the upper hand and got up quickly, and from what he could see in his peripheral vision, Sam and Nel had both gotten up as well. The three of them shot, sending rock salt into the slug's face as rapidly as possible. It made a horrible sizzling sound and curled in on itself. They continued to shoot at it until it fell back with its white underbelly exposed, still sizzling.

"Is it… dead?" Nel asked tentatively.

"Yep," Sam confirmed. He looked uneasy. "This was quick. Almost too quick."

"Too quick? Isn't it _good _that it went quickly?" Nel said, swinging her flashlight towards the slug to look at it warily.

Sam laughed dryly. "Yeah. Sorry. We just have terrible luck. Kind of a family curse, I guess."

Nel laughed too, but it was a nervous laugh, as though she wasn't sure whether to believe Sam or not.

"Alright, quit the giggling," Dean said, starting forward. "Let's get away from Gary. He's starting to smell."

It was true; the slug was emitting a horrible odor that smelled like mucus had baked in the oven.

"You watched SpongeBob?" Nel asked.

_What is she trying to do? Bond or some crap like that?_

"Yeah. Why the hell would I be calling him Gary otherwise?" Dean said roughly. "And put your gun on safety so you don't accidentally shoot one of us."

Nel obeyed instantly, stowing her gun back into her pocket just as there was a horrible crunch beneath Dean's feet, like the sound of splitting rotten wood. He froze, putting his arm out to stop Nel in her tracks.

"We need to move back, now," he said quietly. "Nel, take a gentle step backwards, because-" But neither of them had a chance to move, because the sound of wood tearing split through Dean's ears, and suddenly he was falling, dirt was in his mouth, the world tumbled around him, and he landed hard on his back.

"Shit," he muttered, blinking back stars. He rubbed his back; he'd landed flat on it, and his spine wasn't very happy with him. He'd doubtlessly have a bruise there tomorrow morning.

"You guys okay?" he asked, sitting up and reaching for his flashlight, which had rolled a few feet from him. "Sam?"

There was no answer from Sam. Or Nel.

"Sam?" he said again, a bit louder. "Nel?"

"Ow."

Dean turned the flashlight to where he'd heard Nel's voice. She was lying about fifteen feet away, looking as though the earth had chewed her up and spit her out. Her hair was sticking a hundred different ways out of her head and dirt covered her face, but she looked okay, and to Dean's own bewilderment he found himself feeling immensely relieved.

"You good?" Dean asked, scanning her instinctively like he'd always done for Sam to check for immediate injuries or dangers.

_Sam. Where's Sam?  
_**"**Sam!" he bellowed, and this time he got a muffled response from above them.

"Dean? Are you guys okay?"

"Yeah. Where the hell are you?"

There was a pause. "I'm up in the shaft. The boards broke beneath you guys, and you just… disappeared down there. It's all caved in above you. Is Nel okay?"

"Yeah, I think so," Dean said, glancing back at her. "You sure you're good, kid?"

"I'm okay!" Nel shouted up to assure Sam. "Really!"

"Thank goodness," he heard Sam say. "Okay. I'm going to try to move the dirt. If we can hear each other, it can't be that thick, right?"

Dean laid his hands on the ceiling; it was low and already making him feel suffocated. "Yeah, I don't know if that'll work."

Sam's response was strained. "Why not?"

"All of this landslide is depending on the ceiling. If we move it, it's only going to collapse more." Dean studied the structure of where the floor, which had become the ceiling for them, had caved in. "But I guess it's our only option."

"Not necessarily." There was a rustling of paper. "I brought a map." Nel came up to Dean, holding it open and shining her flashlight on it. "It's a really small mine, but they did build an emergency route to the surface, just in case something ever happened. I think that's what we fell into."

Dean grabbed the map. "So, what, they had an escape route right below the shaft?"

"Yeah. It's a one way path from the deepest part of the mine to the surface."

"Good thinking," he said without thinking, scrutinizing the map. "So, if we head this way…" He pointed at the small green line on the map. "It'll go upward and lead us to here?" He pointed to a small dot on the map that was a half a mile from the shaft entrance they had come in through.

"It looks like it. And it must be opened up, or else there wouldn't really be much oxygen down here, right? So there has to be a way that leads directly outside?" With scared eyes, Nel looked up to him for assurance. It sharply reminded him of how Sam used to look at him, back when they were kids.

"Right," Dean said confidently, even though he wasn't sure, but his tone seemed to convince Nel, because her shoulders relaxed slightly. "Hey, Sam!"

"Yeah?"

"Nel thinks that we landed in an emergency exit route. It looks like it heads up to the surface. We'll head up there and meet you at the entrance to the shaft."

"Okay. Call me once you get reception," Sam said. Dean checked his phone; sure enough, it was indicating that he had no service. "See you on the topside. Stay safe," he shouted through the layer of dirt and rocks between them and Sam, then he turned back to Nel. "I'll lead, just in case some other freaky cave-in happens."

"Okay." Nel followed him. The silence that followed only lasted about a minute.

"Does this freak you out at all?" Nel asked. "Being in this small tunnel?"

"Nah. Not much scares me," Dean answered. The small voice in the back of his head told him to say something, anything, that would push Nel away, or else…

_I can't avoid her forever. She lives with us now. _

_But if I talk to her, then I'll only get to know her, and one day she could die, and..._

"You're not afraid of small spaces?" Dean asked, ignoring the warning signals going off in his body that were telling him not to talk to Nel. "This doesn't bother you?"

"Well, it bothers me, definitely," Nel said slowly. "It's just that it could be worse, I guess. So I'm focusing on that."

"Yeah. I get that." Dean ripped a cobweb away. "So, what? You're imagining the slug coming back to life and making things a hell of a lot worse for us?"

"No." Nel was quiet.

_Now is the moment. Now you can end the conversation, and not speak to her again. _

But he found himself opening his mouth. "Then what is it?"

"If I think about my grandparents, that's a lot worse," Nel said, her voice so quiet that Dean had to walk softer to hear her. "Being in this tunnel, and being distracted, is what I'm focusing on. I'm away from the world, literally and figuratively."

There was silence for a while, except for the crunching of dirt beneath their feet.

"When my...uncle died," Dean said finally, "I took it badly. We both did - Sam and I. We let grief take the steering wheel, I guess. Death hurts like a bitch, doesn't it?"

"How did you get through it? Your uncle's death, I mean?" Nel asked.

"Time. And hunting," he said. "It wasn't until…" He paused. _Why am I telling her this? _**"**It wasn't until we took on a hunt with a girl about your age, called Krissy Chambers, that we were able to climb out of that rut. As much as hunting can suck, it's a damn good way to feel better, isn't it?"

"That's kind of why I wanted to come. Not because I'm into killing giant killer slugs that live in creepy mines, but because I wanted to get out, and just…" Dean heard her suck in her breath. "I just needed to _do _something."

They continued along the tunnel. It was slow moving; often, the ceiling would dip and they would have to stoop to walk through. Dean was sure that it had also crossed Nel's mind that it was possible for the ceiling to cave and crush them, but neither of them had voiced that concern, and so they kept walking upward despite the low roof of the tunnel.

"I told Krissy to get out of hunting," Dean said after another several minutes devoid of talking. "After that hunt, and after the vetalas we were hunting were dead. I told her and her dad that they needed to get out of that life - for their family." He exhaled slowly. "And I'm going to tell you the same thing. Sam's brought you into our life now and you've seen what we do. Right now is your chance to get out of it. Stay away from hunts and monsters, make this your first and last hunt ever. Because this type of life doesn't end well for any of us - ever."

He waited for her answer. When she didn't say anything, he turned around, shining his flashlight towards her. "You hear me?"

"Yeah. I did. Sorry, I was just thinking."

"About…?"

"That you're probably right. But I don't want to be one of those people who confines myself to something, you know? I don't like rigid plans."

"So?"

"So, I don't _think_I'll go out of my way to find deadly monsters, but I don't think I'm just going to close that door, either. If it helps you guys to research, I'll research. If you need backup on a hunt, and I'm somehow the best plan B available, then I'll come and back you up. And if I'm terrified and want to stay a hundred miles away from your nightmarish hunt, then I'll be hiding out in the bunker like a coward." Dean could hear her grinning. "You know what I mean?" Nel added when he didn't say anything.

He stared at her resolute blue eyes for several seconds. "Fine," he said flatly, remembering his earlier coldness with her and cursing himself for having opened up so much. "Just don't say I didn't warn you."

Just like Nel had predicted with the map she'd brought, they reached the surface about a half a mile away from where they'd entered the mining shaft. The tunnel narrowed so severely towards the end that Dean could barely crawl out, and once he did he laid flat on the grass for a minute, closing his eyes against the warmth of the sun.

"That wasn't fun," Nel said unnecessarily once she too had emerged. "I didn't want to say anything while we were down there, but I was so sure that the tunnel was going to collapse on us."

"It crossed my mind a good dozen times," Dean said. He sat up, pulling out his cell phone and dialing Sam's number.

"Hey." Sam picked up almost immediately. "Are you guys okay?"

"Yep. The kid was right; the tunnel came back to the surface. Are you at the entrance to the shaft?"

"Yeah." Sam sounded anxious. "Dean, you weren't a complete hard-ass to her, were you?"

"What makes you think that?" Dean said roughly, and before Sam could answer, he added, "Meet you at the entrance in several minutes." With that, he hung up.

* * *

Dean walked quickly. Nel had to speed walk to keep up with his average pace - his legs were longer and each of his strides matched two of hers. Whatever headway she thought that she had made with him during their conversation back in the tunnel seemed to have vanished, because now he wasn't speaking to her.

_It's as though he's remembered he doesn't like me_. She didn't dare try to strike up a conversation with him, instead choosing to stay a timid four feet behind him as they walked back to the shaft entrance.

But, to her surprise, he was the first to speak. "Hey. You did good today."

"What?" she said, her voice squeaking so high that she doubted he heard her. "Sorry - I mean, thank you."

"But," he continued, his face stiffening slightly, "think about what I said - about staying away from hunting. It's better for you, and it's better for Sam and me. I get that today was a distraction, but you can't keep using hunting like that. If you're going to hunt, you have to be dedicated to it."

"Yeah, I know," Nel said, her voice getting even smaller, but Dean hadn't finished.

"Because I get the whole grief thing, believe me. But if you decide to hunt just to keep your grief at bay? That's going to get you killed, or me killed, or Sam killed. And I won't let that happen. Capiche?"

"I… of course. Capiche." Nel nodded vigorously, her throat closing up with fear at his tone.

"Good." Dean straightened. "I'm telling you this for your own good, kid," he added, his voice a bit softer. "So, you interpret everything as you want, but… that's all I have to say."

* * *

Nel set up her room as soon as she got back to the bunker. It relieved a tension that she didn't know was in her chest - putting her own pillow on the bed, setting up her sheet music in the corner of the room, and sliding a few of her favorite books on the empty bookshelf.

By the time that she'd tucked her shirts, dresses, and pants in the small dresser, her room felt warmer and more homey.

The closet in the corner was large enough to hold her violin and empty bags. She stuffed her duffel bag into the closet once she'd double checked to make sure everything was unpacked, and was about to close the closet door when a small brown box on the upper shelf caught her eye.

It was lightweight. Ornate carvings of moons and stars decorated the top, and a thick bronze latch kept it tightly shut. She dusted off the top - clearly, it hadn't been opened in a long time.

_Besides, Sam and Dean don't use this room, so this can't be private… right? _For a moment she toyed with the idea of putting it back. Whoever had put the box up there had put it out of sight for a reason.

_But it's unlocked. _If it was private, it would have been locked, right?

After a minute of painful oscillating she hastily opened the latch. _If it looks remotely private, I'll close it and put it back. _

But inside were index cards. Witch, wraith, ghost, basilisk, demon, vampire, hag, chupacabra, werewolf - every monster imaginable was listed, each card with a brief statement on how to kill each creature.

* * *

She found Sam reading on his laptop in the library. Dean was out on a laundry run, and Sam was looking for a new hunt.

"Hey, Sam?" Nel asked, walking into the library with the index cards. "I sort of found some index cards with information on killing monsters."

"Really?" Sam got up from where he was reading and took a look at the box. "Wow. Where'd you find that?"

"In my closet."

"The Men of Letters must have left it in there." Sam opened the box and began to rifle through the cards. "This is great. I mean, I've never even heard of a trauco."

"There's nothing to identify it, though," Nel said, peering at the card. "But if you ever knew that you were taking on a trauco, you could use the card."

"It's too bad they didn't just put other details on here." Sam closed the box. "Thanks, Nel."

"Are there really that many monsters out there?" Nel asked, looking at the closed box. "There's got to be hundreds of index cards in there, and with a different monster on each one."

"Yeah. Uh, my dad - sorry, _our _dad - used to actually check our rooms and under our beds when we were younger for monsters. I think that he was kidding, because he stopped doing it once we were older, but he meant to scare us into being cautious."

"Dean says that hunting never ends well, in the long run." Nel hesitated. "Is that true?"

Sam sighed. "Look, hunters aren't exactly notorious for happy endings. But that doesn't mean you _can't _have a happy ending." He looked at her for several moments. "Dean's trying to scare you away from all of this, isn't he?"

"I think so."

"He's not wrong. You'd be safer if you stayed far away from hunts. You know, you could just stay at the bunker whenever we leave for a hunt, if you don't feel comfortable coming along."

"Research can't be that dangerous," Nel said, smiling. "I'll just stick to the books. That slug can be an exception."  
**"**You shot pretty well."

"I feel like it was more adrenaline. And luck. I'm terrible at anything physical, or anything requiring dexterity," Nel admitted. "To be honest, I'd be a garbage teammate to have along on a hunt."

"That's not true. It just takes practice." Sam stood up. "Come on. I'll give you a lesson in self defense."

"Wait. Really?" A grin formed on Nel's face. "You'd show me?"

"Of course. What if you ever face a demon? You've got to know the basics, at least."

"I feel bad - you were in the middle of searching for a hunt - if you want, you can show me later-"

"No, really," Sam said seriously. "Here - help me move the tables."

Together they pushed the tables and chairs to the side of the library. Sam left quickly to get a small punching bag, and, a bit nervously, Nel tied her puffy hair back into a large ponytail. For better mobility, she took off her cardigan so that she was only wearing her dress.

"Okay." Sam returned to the library. "I guess we can start with punching. You know how to punch, right?"

"I think so." Nel curled her hand into a fist. "And then…uh… do I step with my left or right foot?"

"Hang on." Sam's lips twitched upward into a smile. "Keep your thumb outside of your first, or you might break it."

Nel felt her face reddening. "I knew that - sorry, I was being stupid," she said, quickly correcting her fist.

"You don't need to apologize. And you don't necessarily need to step forward, either. You're right handed?" Sam came and stood next to her. "You're going to keep your left foot forward - like this - and when you punch, turn your arm down slightly to hit the target." He demonstrated in slow motion.

"Okay." Nel tried to replicate it.

"Keep your wrists straight. And then, follow with your left arm, so that it's a one-two punch - it's much more effective than just one punch." He watched Nel do it. "That's right. Now try it on me."

He lifted up the small, square punching bag and held it in front of his chest. Nel turned to face him and repeated the motion again, this time pouring all of the strength she could muster into the punches. Sam's hands barely even wavered.

"Sorry," Nel apologized again. "I'm not really strong."

"That's okay. As long as you get in a couple punches, that's what matters. Do it again."

Sam had her throw at least thirty more punches until he seemed satisfied with her form, and by the time they moved on her knuckles were throbbing.

"I think that your elbows will be your best advantage," Sam said, studying her arms. "They're knobby. You could really incapacitate someone if you got your elbow in their face. Hold your left arm in, and then strike outwards with your elbow."

Nel tried it. "Like that?"

"Close. Keep your arm up a bit higher. And then - once you've hit your opponent with your elbow - knee them in the groin."

Sam showed her a counter attack, if she was ever grabbed around the neck, as well as a backwards elbow strike. They had progressed to the hammer fist punch by the time Dean returned, and he stood in the entrance of the library, staring at them with his mouth slightly agape.

"What the hell?" he said finally. "What are you two doing?"

"I was just showing Nel self defense," Sam said, standing up straighter as though to justify what they had been doing.

Dean looked back and forth between them. "Is she any good?"

"Yeah, actually." Sam laughed slightly. "I think her elbows are dangerously lethal."

"Hm." Dean snorted. "They _are _pointy. You plan on fighting evil in a yellow dress, kid?"

Nel blushed, looking down at her dress. "Um, I just happened to be wearing this. It wasn't intentional."

Dean considered her. "You know, that could be kind of badass, killing monsters in a dress," Dean said, and Nel's heart lifted.

"Laundry run go well?" Sam asked, and Dean gestured to the basket of laundry.

"It was so much fun. I had an absolute blast," Dean said dryly. "You find us a hunt?"

"Almost. I found some potential salt and burns we could check out. You want a ghost, or something that sounds like a wendigo? Because there's some weird stuff happening in the middle of a forest in Montana."

Dean eyed Sam suspiciously. "Like, middle-of-nowhere 'middle of a forest' Montana? Because I ain't camping."

"I think so."

"Then ghost it is." Dean turned to Nel. "You coming, kid?" He looked at her with formidable, level eyes that made her uncomfortable.

_He's testing me, to see if I'm going to listen to his advice._

"I'll come," Nel said finally. "But… I'll stick to research this time. I'll only be a liability on a hunt."

Dean seemed satisfied. "Okay. Pack your things. Where's the hunt?"

"Well, there's several salt and burns I was considering," Sam began, but Dean cut him off.

"Where's the _farthest _salt and burn? I want to feel Baby's tires beneath me on the open road, humming along for hours at a time with great music and great diner food," he said, rubbing his hands together.

"Okay. First of all, get a room," Sam said, "and second, there was one in New Jersey. That far enough for you?"

Dean grinned. "Perfect. Let's get outta here."

* * *

**A/N: **And… end scene! I hope that chapter was fulfilling - I wanted to include character bonding with both Dean and Sam.

I'd love to get feedback - any reviews are highly welcomed! Thanks so much!


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